FeeliPark

GENERAL RULES

No requests. You're always free to send in suggestions but it is not a full guarantee that I will write whatever request that is...

No minors. If minors will be mentioned, then they shall be limited to supporting characters only and shall not be discussed sexually.

RULES ON WHO I SHALL WRITE AND NOT WRITE

In response to the polls I provided sometime last year, I have now expanded my drafts not just exclusively on Kpop idols and K-actresses, but also on Non-Asian and Non-Kpop Asian celebrities. Now who would I consider as celebrities? Specifically...

Actresses (Pornstars are allowed), Singer-Songwriters, TV Personalities/MCs, Professional dancers, and DJs. Yes, I consider DJs as artists.

When it comes to professional dancers though, I'll limit it to Korean-based dancers. I'm honestly not too interested on those from outside Korea. Other than that, if the girl is not any of the ones I mentioned above, then I have no plans on writing her. Some examples would be...

Influencers, Tiktokers, Youtubers, Streamers, Radio hosts, models (Instagram or professional-wise)

I help my girls out in their baggage, Miyeon's pink bag and Sana's designer carry-on feeling like weights of expectation in my hands. The moment we exited the bridge, I was beyond astonished at the airport's interior!

"No way! Is this really what's inside?" I couldn't help but utter.

I've read many articles about Incheon airport being the best in the world, on par with the one down in Singapore. But wow, just looking at everything around me, it was so nothing like Haneda or Narita. The architecture was all sleek curves and massive glass panes that let the afternoon sun bleed into the terminal, making the whole place feel like a futuristic train.

"Hehe! It's amazing, isn't it?" Miyeon uttered.

I looked towards Momo and Sana who were also scanning the terminal with wide eyes. They looked like tourists, and Miyeon looked like she was reclaiming a piece of herself.

I thought, Gosh, even after almost two years, I still get star struck just seeing this girl. Jo Miyeon didn't just walk; she glided through the airport, her long, slender legs moving with a grace that felt totally out of place in a crowded terminal. Her long legs shined underneath her shorts, her small top showing a bit of her midriff, making her look like a fairy who just happened to land in Incheon.

"Oh! What's this, Miyeon?" I heard Sana suddenly ask.

"Ooh... Someone might be coming!" Miyeon replied.

"Someone famous? Like an actor?" Momo inquired in which Miyeon was quick to nod.

I turned around to find a spot filled with lots, and I mean LOTS of cameramen lining up in a neat little row. I thought, huh! So that's how that looked! I used to see tabloids of celebrity photos in the airport, kind of like a small fan meeting if you asked me! I never really thought about what it would look like behind the scenes and damn, I never knew I would see it for myself!

"Omo! Omo! Here they come!" Miyeon uttered.

Slowly, a group of good looking guys exit their private terminal gate, flanked by security guards who look like they’re escorting foreign delegates. For a moment, all I could hear were the screams of some girls. I took a closer look at the guys and thought, where have I seen these boys? Why do they look so familiar?

I swear, deep down in the back of my mind, I've seen them somewhere before! Fuck! Was it a magazine? A tabloid? An article?!?! I swear, the closer I examined their faces the more I felt like solving a large puzzle with miniscule sizes. This was the case until I heard Momo scream...

"HEECHUL OPPA!!!!"

And that's when it hit me! They weren't boys! They were grown ass men! They were Momo's favorite group, Super Junior, and Kim Heechul was her bias!

"OPPA SARANGHAEYO!!!"

I thought, Oh god! Momo's at it again! It was very rare for a woman like Hirai Momo to turn into a fangirl. While she had always been my supportive best friend, she was a VERY different person when it came to Super Junior, like she was someone from an anime rom-com.

I've lost count already how many times she has mewled Kim Heechul's name throughout the years. She's had many posters of him, the same as her silver medals. But now, on our first trip abroad, she looked like she was about to pass out when I saw the guy look back at us and quickly waved at her.

"Oohh... my heart," Momo whimpered.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop being dramatic!" I laughed.

Momo pretended to pass out on my chest! Her eyes rolled back in a dramatic display of cardiac arrest, she went completely limp, her head hitting my shoulder with a soft thud.

"Ya! Will you cut that out?!?!" I muttered, struggling to keep my balance because of her weight.

"But he looked at me, Fumi... Oppa noticed me!" She didn't even bother opening her eyes, just clung to my shirt like a bear.

"Hahaha! Momoring, do you really like him that much?" Miyeon giggled.

Momo just nodded, her eyes still closed, still dead-weight against my chest. "He's a god, Miyeon! A literal angel!" she whimpered, though she finally started giggling.

I thought, Oh shit, what am I gonna do once we head to SM tomorrow? It was part of our itinerary, a tour around SM Headquarters in our week- long stay here in Korea.

"Hehe, what about you, Sana? You didn't look excited seeing Suju at the airport?" Miyeon teased her.

Sana just giggled, her eyes curving into those little crescents that always made my heart skip a beat. She reached over and pinched Momo's cheek, trying to wake her up from her dramatic trance.

"I'm just happy to be here with my favorite people..." She stated.

"Although, I am more of a Taeyeon stan than I am with boys... Fumi here knows... Isn't that right, babe?" She added, in which I was quick to respond: "Yep..."

Sana and I were big Sone's back home. Miss Taeyeon has always been our bias from the very start! Sana once joked about Tayeon being the only other person she'd ditch me for if given the chance. But no, I wasn't gonna let someone take Sana from me, even if it was THE Kim Taeyeon herself! No way!

"Now come! Our baggage should be this way." Miyeon stated.

We take our baggage from the belt and head toward the arrivals hall. I could smell the Korean air already. It was something different compared to Tokyo or Osaka. As soon as we stepped outside, we were greeted by a middle-aged couple who turned out to be Miyeon's parents!

"Omma!" Miyeon squealed, launching herself into her mother's arms with a cute little *hop*.

Her mom let out a tiny gasp, hugging her back with a smile. Her father just stood there, looking all sturdy and proud, though he did have that classic "stern" look on his face.

I thought, shit! He was so different from Sana's dad! Sana's father was a bit of a comedian while Miyeon's was like a retired General!

"You look so pretty! Are these all your friends?" Miyeon's mom beamed, her eyes darting between the three of us.

"Yes, mom. This is Momo, she is Sana and-..." She paused, glancing at me like she was unsure of what to say next.

"And he's my boyfriend... Fumi..." She trailed off.

"Eh?!?"

"B-Boyfriend?!?!"

I thought, Oh jeez... What's going on?!?! This SO reminds me of the time me and Sana revealed our relationship back home. I already had a small hunch of how they were gonna react, but Miyeon's parents? These were people who had never seen their daughter with her date before!

Miyeon's dad blinked slowly, his eyes scanning me from head to toe like he was checking for a flaw in a piece of armor. I thought I felt a cold sweat break down on my neck. He didn't say a word for a solid ten seconds, just stood there with his arms crossed. Then, he let out a huff, a tiny little "hmph" that sounded like a steam engine starting up.

"You're a bit skinny, aren't you?" he grunted, though his voice wasn't as scary as I expected.

"Daddy! He understands you!" Miyeon called out in which her dad suddenly froze.

"Eh?!? Can you understand me?" He asked, in which I replied in full Korean: "Ne, Ja Algetsumnida, Miyeon Abeoji..."

"Ha! Miyeona! Are you sure he's Japanese? He sounds like the neighbor's delivery boy!" He let out a laugh that sounded like a landslide, his stern expression finally cracking into a wide grin. 

He stepped forward and slapped me on the back so hard my lungs practically swapped places, but his eyes were sparkling. At least that was a relief to realize the 'General' had a soft spot.

"Cha! Come! Let's head to the car!" He stated.

The old man helped me out with Sana and Momo's luggage as we made our way to their car, a white Kia Sorento that looked like it was carved out of a sci-fi film! I looked inside and thought, Woah! It smelled like first class.

Miyeon's mom sat on the front while the rest of us sat on the back. Momo and Sana sat right behind Miyeon's dad while Miyeon and I sat behind her mom. I'd be lying if I said I didn't mind getting seen by her dad from the rear-view mirror. But the second the doors clicked shut and the car started to move, Miyeon was already laying on my shoulder!

She laid her head down like a tired girlfriend, *my* tired girlfriend. There was no way we were gonna let these old folks know about us fucking like rabbits, especially with Miyeon and Sana as a lesbian couple! This was the perfect facade! I was the loving boyfriend and she was the loving girlfriend.

"Pigonhae?" I looked into the side of Miyeon's head, asking her if she was tired.

"Ne..." She replied back.

I don't know if that was part of the facade or not. But my feelings for her were still real. Our feelings for one another are still real.

I stole a glance towards Momo and Sana who were looking back at me with smirks that I knew were feigned hatred. I thought, don't worry girls, I'll have you back once we're in the hotel.

"So Momo, Sana? How was your flight?"

"Eh? Eh-Ehh?"

Miyeon's mom suddenly asked and the 2 girls were left stunned. It was only then Miyeon's Mom forgot that they were Japanese and they didn't speak any Korean at all!

"I'll take it from here..." Miyeon helped out.

Throughout the ride, Miyeon's mom asked questions about them, and about us thanks to Miyeon's help. When they both said they were single, Miyeon's mom then made a remark saying that I could've dated either one of them. Oh, if only she knew...

"Now, tell me Fumi... How did you learn Korean? Are you into Kpop as well?" Miyeon's dad suddenly inquired.

"W-Well uhm... Y-Yes but... When I was young, back in Osaka... My landlord was a Zainichi Korean... He was pretty much my dad since my real father was dead before I was born." I managed to answer.

I thought, shit! I thought I was already prepared for this! I had all the answers and the alibis in my mind. But to say them out loud and in convincing fashion was a different story! My heart was thumping against my chest, and I could feel the eyes of the entire car on me. I looked over at Miyeon, and she gave me a tiny, supportive squeeze on my hand.

"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, it's alright, abeoji..."

"But what are you taking up, my boy? What kind of career is my daughter's boyfriend trying to take?"

"Daddy!"

Miyeon suddenly squealed! I saw her cheeks flare up as she buried her face against my shoulder, hiding from her father's curious gaze.

"What? Can I not know what my little girl's boyfriend is gonna be?" He added.

"I'm planning to be a cop, abeoji. I'm taking up criminology." I honestly replied.

"Ha! Now that is a real man, Sooyounga! Our daughter is in good hands!" He let out another booming laugh.

"Honey!"

"What? Think about it! Miyeon's got a boyfriend in the law? We'll be safe from those Yakuza goons once we go there! Isn't that right, Fumi?!?" He roared, practically vibrating in the driver's seat.

I caught the amused glint in Miyeon's eyes and decided to lean into the role. I sat up straight, puffing out my chest with a playful seriousness that made Momo snicker beside me.

"Sure thing, abeoji. The academy says I was a good shot."

"Now you're talking!" He beamed, steering the Kia with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.

"I'll tell you what! If you're available, let's head for the gun shop! It's been awhile since I've been in the firing range! It's about time I paid old Minjae a visit!" the man boomed.

I thought, Oh geez, what have I gotten myself into? We all had plans for our week's long stay here in Korea. But it seems one of those activities is gonna be me and her father playing with firearms.

"Right. Here we are..."

"Woah! Jibeuro wasseo!" Miyeon cheered as the car pulled into a quiet, tree-lined residential street.

We got out of the car where a gated house stood, nestled behind a high hedge of manicured boxwoods. It was a traditional blend of modern concrete and classic wooden accents. Miyeon’s father and I started hauling the luggage out of the trunk while her mother hurried the girls inside to start the tea.

"Palli! Palli! I made some Galbi-jjim!" her mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Wow! Mom! You didn't have to!" Miyeon exclaimed.

The smell hit me like a wave of goodness. In the center of the table sat a massive pot of Galbi-jjim, the braised short ribs glistening in a rich, dark brown glaze that looked like liquid mahogany. The meat looked so tender it was practically falling off the bone, swimming in a pool of sweet and salty sauce thickened by a hint of pear puree and soy. Around it, a colorful array of banchan—small side dishes—filled the gaps: bright red kimchi fermented to a sharp tang, seasoned spinach with a touch of sesame oil, and pickled radishes that looked like little translucent gems.

"Woah... It is so different from the restaurants..." I couldn't help but utter.

"Oh? You eat Korean food in Japan, Fumi?" Her mom inquired.

"Yeah, sometimes. Momo over here always asks for Jokbal."

"Eh?"

Momo, as always, was like a blank when she was confused at something she didn't understand. She just sat there, her eyes widening into two perfect, glossy circles, her mouth slightly agape as she processed the sounds coming out of our mouths. The girl was like a computer that just had the blue screen of death, her brain completely stalling while the rest of us were chatting away.

To Sana's credit, she did have some level of basic Korean, mostly phrases and expressions she learned from Miyeon. They were still dating after all as a lesbian couple back in Japan. She managed to giggle and nod at the right times, her expressions an open book of politeness and charm. She leaned into the "sweet friend" role perfectly, her eyes curving into those crescents as she helped Miyeon's mom serve the rice, acting like the perfect guest while I tried to navigate the minefield of conversation with the father.

"Come! Let's eat!" Her dad's voice boomed.

We all sat down where Miyeon and I were directly in front of her parents whereas Sana sat by me left and Momo sat on Miyeon's right.

"Jal meokgesseumnida!" we all chimed, though Momo's was a bit off-beat.

I dug into the ribs, and right away, the difference between Auntie's cooking and that of the restaurant was obvious. The meat melted on my tongue, a sweet, savory explosion that made me close my eyes for a second. Beside Miyeon, Momo was practically vibrating with excitement, using her chopsticks to shove a huge piece of beef into her mouth.

"Hehe, does she really eat like that?" Miyeon's mom asked.

Momo didn't even look up, her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter, a tiny bit of sauce glistening on the corner of her lip. Miyeon and I had the same look, the kind that said, Oh heavens please don't embarrass me!

"Yes, mommy... Fighter's instincts..."

"She's a karate athlete. She tends to diet a lot before a tournament. And when she's not dieting... well, you see it," I added, trying to steer the conversation toward something a bit more dignified than Momo’s eating habits.

The girl just nodded. I don't think she understood a word we just said as she just kept feeding herself on the ribs.

"Yah! Seriously Fumi..." Her dad suddenly spoke.

"If I bring in the neighbors right now, they'll really think I have a lost son." He let out another thunderous laugh, pointing a chopstick at me.

"It doesn't feel like I'm talking to a foreigner when I'm with you. Tell me, you're not talking about getting married yet, right?"

"Oppa!"

"Daddy!"

I could've sworn I felt my soul leave my body for a moment. I stammered, my tongue suddenly feeling like an oversized luggage that wouldn't fit into my mouth! I thought, Fuck! That came out of nowhere...

"Uhm... Maybe Miyeon and I would want to graduate first before we... Think about S-Settling down..." I responded, although my voice cracked slightly.

I didn't even know it but I was already holding Miyeon's hand and everyone was there to see it! Her mom gasped like she just saw a ghost, and her dad's eyebrows shot up so high I thought they vanished into his hairline!

I turn to my friends only to find them trying to stifle laughs and giggles only to fail miserably. My *Real* girlfriend, Sana's face was a bright, strawberry pink, her hand clamped over her mouth as she shook with silent laughter, her eyes twinkling with pure mischief.

Even though Momo didn't understand Korean, the sight of our hands together was more than enough for her to understand the "vibe."

"Well, honey... I think it's clear our Miyeon is happy with her friends..." Her mom teased.

I quickly pulled my hand back, feeling like a clumsy kid, but Miyeon just giggled, leaning her head against my shoulder. The facade was working a little too well; the "perfect couple" act was practically writing itself.

"Yeah... I guess so, Sooyoungie..." Her husband replied.

"Cha! You drink too, Fumi-chan?" He asked suddenly, taking out a bottle of soju with a couple glasses for me and him.

My eyes shot up immediately at the sight of it! I always preferred this over sake back home! It's like the man read my mind whether he meant to or not, and before I could even blink, he was already pouring the clear liquid into the glass with a steady hand. The sound of the pour was like a tiny waterfall, filling the glass right to the brim.

I felt a surge of adrenaline, not just because of the alcohol, but because of the way the three girls were looking at me. They knew this was my go-to drink and that I could hold my alcohol. Playing the role of the "responsible boyfriend" has been a bit of a struggle, but this? This was a game I was born to play.

"Yeah, I'll have some!" I grinned, lifting the glass.

"There we go! To your trip and your future with Miyeon..." He lifted his glass up and slammed it against mine with a resounding *clink* that sounded like a gavel hitting a desk.

We both downed the shot in one go, and the drink's flavor immediately shot through my veins in what was going to be the first of many glasses.

*1 hour later

"And remember, Fumi! Take my Miyeon home or you're gonna get it!" Her father gestured, half drunk and half joking, as he ushered us toward the front door.

"I will, Aboji! I will see you later, Auntie! I promise to take Miyeon back!" I replied back.

"Right! Let's get out of here before her Appa decides to give us a lecture on the Japanese occupation," I whispered, steering the girls toward the driveway.

The evening air was a sudden, cool shock against my skin, carrying the scent of damp pavement and distant charcoal grills. We didn't need a car or a taxi; the motel was just a few blocks away, tucked behind a row of neon-lit convenience stores that glowed like oversized candy bars in the dark.

We weren't in Seoul yet, but this area of Incheon already reminded me a bit of my neighborhood back in Osaka, the path to my apartment with Kim-san so familiar except for the Korean symbols all over the street!

We were still a couple through and through, but we finally had the opportunity to get back to our regular selves as Sana snuggled us both.

"Ohhh, look at these two! Already thinking about getting married?!?! Ohhh, what is my lonely heart going to do?!?!" She let out a loud, theatrical wail, throwing her arms up and leaning back with a dramatic gasp.

"Ya! I'm not leaving you!" Miyeon laughed, reaching out to yank Sana back into the huddle.

The facade finally cracked the moment we stepped off the driveway, and the tension from the dinner party evaporated into the cool night air. We walked in a tight, tangled knot of limbs, our laughter echoing off the quiet residential walls. For the first time in hours, I didn't have to worry about who was looking at whom or whose hand was where.

"I must say, that was quite the acting there, Fumi! You might as well be an actor!" Momo chirped.

"And you need to chill out on your eating!" I fired back.

"I swear, I thought I was gonna have to pay Miyeon's mom for a plate of jokbal!" I added.

The girl just hmpphed! This was the woman I knew for as long as I could remember! The hotel was just around the corner, a modest building with a flickering neon sign that promised "Rest and Comfort."

Miyeon and I did all the talking at the front desk, our voices hushed as we checked in. Once the clerk handed over the key card and we finally stepped into our room, the click of the lock behind us sounded like a shotgun.

"Oh god... I could use some shut eye..." I uttered when I laid my ass down on the bed.

My back hadn't even settled into the mattress before I felt the bed dip. A familiar scent filled my nostrils as I felt someone lay on my right side. I look down to find Sana. She didn't say a word; she just crawled over me, her hands sliding under my shirt to feel my skin.

Another presence made herself known on my left, my 'girlfriend', Miyeon, sliding in.

"Ya! What about me?!?!" Momo suddenly uttered.

"Hey! Hey!"

I muttered when she forced herself on top of me, pinning me and the other girls which caused Miyeon and Sana to squeal.

"Ya! We're too many!"

"Can't you see there's another bed?!?!"

"Yeah, but you're all having Fumi for yourselves!"

The girls squirmed! We were a bunch of tangled limbs, a little mountain of soft skin and oversized t-shirts. Giggles and grunts were all left on our lips as we tried yet failed to find our angles, our breathing getting all huffy and warm.

"Y-Ya... We really need to get that bed..." I pleaded as their crushing combined weights were finally getting into me.

"Momo-chan! Go!"

"Ughhh! Fine!"

To my relief, Momo actually stood up, allowing me to breathe and giving me enough space for me to stand up as well. The two of us took the extra bed and slid it next to where Miyeon and Sana were.

When we got there, the pair were already in a world of their own. Their lips were already glossed with spit as their arms and legs crossed and crossed with one another!

"I'm not leaving you..." I heard Miyeon utter in which Sana responded, "You better not..."

"Uhm, you're welcome?" Momo whined.

"Well, so much for that..." I couldn't help but utter.

"Come here, fool!"

Before I could even ask, Momo slammed me on my back against the wall and her lips crashed into mine with the force of a freight train. This was exactly how we usually started, no build-up, no tentative gaze; just hands and lips colliding.

Two years of this and she still tasted the same, my best friend and her name's signature fruit, Peach. I thought, Damn! Has it really been that long already?

I was supposed to have my anniversary date with these girls back home. But with our trip here to Korea, we decided each one of them would have a solo date with the other. Miyeon just so happened to be the special one for tonight. The mask to shield ourselves from her parents' expectations had finally fallen, and the hunger that had been building since the airport was now a roaring fire.

Momo didn't just kiss me; she never did. She always devoured me like I was her last meal, her tongue sliding against mine with an aggressive hunger that made my head swim. Her hands weren't idle either, one gripping the back of my neck to hold me in place while the other was already working on my pants.

"That's it... Let me have that cock..." She uttered.

Her hand pulled down my pants and boxers in one go. She grabs my cock and strokes it like she was starting an engine. It took mere seconds for me to get hard, her grip was something I've grown addicted to—firm, possessive, knowing exactly where to apply pressure. I groaned into the kiss, my hands sliding down to her ass, pulling her closer until there wasn't a millimeter of air left between our bodies.

She didn't waste a second getting down to her knees and sucking me in. Momo didn't do subtle; she almost never did. She dove in with an aggressive hunger, her mouth, a warm, wet vacuum maw that enveloped the head of my cock with a wet smack. I felt the friction of her tongue swirling around my flesh, swirling and pulsing, while she looked up at me with her big eyes.

I thought, Shit! What did I do to deserve this? I still asked myself that even after two years! I still can't believe this raccoon of a girl that I called my best friend was my first sex. Her lips were the first pair to kiss my dick, her mouth was the first to take in my cock like it was meant for her from the very start.

She made sure to let everyone around hear the sounds of her sucking my cock like she was meant for it! Her head bobbed up and down like a piston, her throat working in rhythmic wet gulps that echoed throughout the whole room. Every time her lips tightened around the head, she’d let out a muffled, needy moan, her tongue swirling around the ridge of my glans with a sloppy yet deliberate precision. She wasn't just teasing; she was trying to drain me dry right there, her spit coating my shaft in a thick, glistening layer of lubricant that made every slide of her mouth feel like a slide into paradise.

"Oh fuck... M-Momo..." I uttered her name.

My hands instinctively reached down for her head and I held her skull in place as I started thrusting in and out of her, fucking her mouth like it was a second pussy. The sounds were wet and loud, a sequence of sloppy slaps as her chin collided with my sacks. I could feel the edge of her throat from the head of my cock, her eyes rolling back in a daze of pleasure from the sheer size of me filling her mouth. She was making these muffled, guttural sounds, a mix of choking and longing that drove me absolutely wild.

"Oh F-Fuck... Oh Shit... Sh-Shit..."

I felt an additional surge suddenly. I looked down to find Miyen and Sana were now kneeling besides Momo, their mouths taking my balls like gourmet treats, their tongues flickering over my skin with a precision that made my toes curl. Miyeon took my right while Sana took my left.

Once again, I asked myself, what did I do to deserve this? Our founding fathers might've had concubines whose numbers reached to the hundreds. But these three girls right here, my own 'wives' (shit! Do I really want to call them that? Hehe) were all I needed!

*cough "Ya! I got him first!" Momo exclaimed.

"Hehe! It's not a contest, Momoring!" Sana chirped, before taking Momo's place!

"Ughhh, the nerve!" Momo groaned, her eyes rolling in playful disappointment as she and I watched Sana slide into the center.

She didn't just take me in; Sana always had this way of treating my cock like it was a piece of fine art. While Momo liked playing rough, Sana always took her time, mostly. She always started by circling her tongue around my cockhead, a soft, humming moan that vibrated against my skin.

Then, she opened wide, sliding over me with a wet, sliding motion. Her lips were like a tight, suctioning seal, pulling back slowly and leaving a trail of glistening spit that shimmered under the motel's dim lights.

This girl was beauty incarnate. All my life, I heard everyone around me say Sana was the most beautiful creature without a spotlight. Her face could've filled the country's billboards had she chosen to. She's told me stories and encounters of people online and on school grounds asking for her for a modelling gig. I talked to her about accepting some of them, yet she still chose to stay lowkey.

Oh, if only those billboards could see her now. From this angle, looking down, Sana looked like an angel who had traded her halo for the taste of sin. Her eyes were lidded in half, shimmering with a cocktail of lust and devotion, framed by lashes that cast long shadows against her flushed cheeks.

I thought, Jeez! What did I do to have this angel as my girlfriend? My REAL and OFFICIAL girlfriend.

"Hehe... My turn, babe..."

And just like that, Sana's lips departed my cock and in came Princess Miyeon's...

"Ohhhh... Godddd..."

The groan that left me was one I didn't recognize. I slammed my head back on the wall, my eyes closed at the thought of knowing who it was down there...

I didn't have to look just to see who it was. I knew Jo Miyeon was blowing my dick, but the sight of her doing so was both mesmerising, yet terrifying.

I thought, Shit! I just survived an interrogation with her father! The heat of her jaw felt like she was literally sucking the living soul out of me. My hands just reached down her face, guiding her in a rhythm that felt more like a battle than a date. Miyeon guided herself in a rather puzzling way.

She had this style of going in fast then slowing down suddenly and vice versa. Her movements were unorthodox, yet the way her lips moved and jaw contracted on each bob was like a masterclass in suction. One moment she was barely grazing the head, and the next, she was plunging deep, her throat opening up to welcome me with a wet, guttural sound that felt like it was echoing inside my own chest. I could feel her hands gripping my thighs, her nails digging into my skin, anchoring me to the spot as she worked me over with a desperate, hungry energy.

And that was when I looked for a moment before closing my eyes back up. Her gaze, her seemingly innocent gaze, always had this way of turning predatory when she was in the zone, ALWAYS. Jo Miyeon was never a tense girl, a real Princess roaming on school grounds.

But when her lips wrapped around me, the "princess" disappeared and the woman took over. She sucked with a vacuum-like intensity, her cheeks hollowing out as she pulled the length of me deep into her throat. It was a rhythmic, punishing pressure that pushed me closer and closer to the edge with every slide. I could hear the wet, squelching sounds of their combined spit acting as a lubricant, a visceral noise that drowned out everything else in the room.

My hips started to buck involuntarily, my breath hitching as the friction of her tongue swirling around the ridge of my glans sent electric shocks straight to my brain.

"Oh yes... Oh shit..."

Out of instinct, I just started fucking the girl's mouth, her Princess persona now just dust in the air. Her head bobbed in a frantic and messy rhythm, her eyes rolling back as she took every inch of me, her throat making those deep, guttural sounds. I could already imagine the image of the woman below me, the corruption of an enchanting Princess' face with a commoner's cock buried deep inside her throat.

"Alright, bitches! I'm getting him first!" Momo suddenly declared.

"Jeez... So feisty, Momoring..." Miyeon uttered, spitting out my cock before sliding back to give Momo a playful shove.

And with that, Momo grabs me by the wrist and drags me towards the bed, or should I say beds rather. To this day, I'm still stunned by how strong this girl was. My wrist felt like they were taken by clamps instead of a woman's hand as she tossed into the cushions.

She doesn't even wait for me to settle before she strips herself out of her clothes in rapid fashion. She pins me flat on my back and I'm forced to look up, watching her slowly get down and impale herself on my cock...

"Ahhhh..."

I hear the sounds of her groan get louder by the decibel the lower she goes. Every fiber and every ridge of her clit swallowed my cock in a slow and tight descent. The sensation was astounding; it always was.

Hirai Momo may have been a karate champion, but in times like these, she was still a girl with needs. Her cunt enveloped me whole when she finally sat down. I felt every ridge and the tiniest edges of her inner walls clamping onto me, squeezing my shaft in a tight, wet grip that made my vision blur. She let out a long, trembling breath, her head falling back as her back arched into a perfect curve.

"Ohhhh yes..." She uttered.

Two years have gone by yet Hirai Momo still felt like that college freshman who first discovered the depths of my body. Her interior was a tight, scorching gauntlet of ribbed muscle and slick heat clamping down on my shaft with a possessive grip. It wasn't just the physical tightness that hit me; it was the way her walls seemed to pulse around me with every micro-movement of her hips. The friction was immense, a wet, sliding pressure that felt like being enveloped in warm velvet that had been soaked in oil.

"Hehe, good thing immigration didn't see this..." I heard Sana's voice suddenly.

I turned a quick peek towards their direction where I witnessed Sana and Miyeon taking out their dildos from their luggage. I thought, Shit... I didn't think they would actually bring those all the way here! If they brought those then I wouldn't be surprised Momo also brought her own.

"Focus, baka..." She suddenly whispered, leaning down to bite my shoulder as she began to bounce.

Momo didn't do a slow burn; she went straight for the kill, her butt slamming into me with hard, rhythmic thuds that shook the beds. Each downward plunge was a violent collision of skin on skin, her internal muscles clenching around me in desperate, pulsing waves. I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh to anchor her, while she leaned forward, her big ass tits swaying with the momentum of her ride.

"Oh fuck! Yes! Yes!" She moaned.

This has been a common sight for the last two years! Momo on top of me, her bouncing breasts around my face, and her ass slamming back down to meet my thighs! It has been an incredible journey, my best friend and my first sex, and yet, every single time she rides me, it feels as if we are discovering a new map of pleasure. I could feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead, the heat in the room climbing as the sound of our bodies colliding became the only rhythm that mattered.

"Oh, that's right! Fuck me! Fuck me!" She grunted.

I obliged, planting my feet on the cushions and started thrusting upwards to meet her descent. The impact was gut wrenching, a wet, slapping sound that echoed throughout the small hotel bedroom as I drove myself deep into her heat. I watched Momo's eyes roll back, a sight I've seen way too many times, yet I still found it intoxicating. She was panting, her breaths coming in short, jagged bursts, her skin slick with sweat that made her slide against me like silk.

On our side, Miyeon was pinning Sana down, her crotch slamming against hers as her artificial cock slid in and out of Sana's clit. I thought, Damn! Even after two years, the sight of them just blows me away!

It didn't matter who was fucking who! The point was, I get to see one of my girls feel like a man for a few moments in time, asserting her will and her dominance like an ordinary guy would with his shaft. Their "cocks" might not be real, but they were still my size and they were capable enough to reach depths that the average dick could only dream of.

"Ah shit! Fumi! I'm close!" Momo suddenly uttered.

The signs of her orgasm were there. Her walls were closing in on me and before I knew it, she was bucking and shaking. Her peak hit her like a wave, her inner walls clamping down on my cock as she goes uncontrolled, her hips shuddering in a frantic rhythm. Her moans ricocheted in and out of the room, her juices spilling all over my thighs as she forced herself out of my dick and collapsed on top of me.

I thought, Shit! Even as she goes limp, her lower body is still shaking, the last of her orgasm still rippling through her muscles.

Nearby, I heard Sana mewling out of control. I turned slightly to see her spamming, her body twitching uncontrollably as Miyeon makes her trigger her own orgasm. I thought, Fuck! The sight of it all was too much!

I see my girlfriend completely undone, her body completely limp as Miyeon pulls out her strap-on and leaves Sana in a puddle of her own pleasure. The room smelled like sex and sweat. Housekeeping is SO gonna mark us for a deep clean after this. I lay there for a second, my heart hammering against my ribs, still pulsing as Momo was catching her breath against my chest. But the night was far from over; the adrenaline was still screaming through my veins, and I was still rock hard, staring up at the ceiling.

"Come here you..." I hear someone utter.

I see Miyeon scoot Momo over towards a panting Sana where she lay, exhausted and glistening. Miyeon takes out her strap-on and tosses it aside. She doesn't just climb on top of me; she descends like a soft, warm blanket, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller.

"My Prince..." She leans down, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that feels like a slow-motion collapse.

Unlike Momo's hurricane of a passion, Jo Miyeon was like a slow-burning fuse. She didn't rush the descent; she let her body hover just millimeters above mine, teasing me with the ghost of her weight. And when she finally settled, it wasn't a crash, but a gentle melt. Her lips collided with mine in a kiss that tasted like honey, a slow, swirling dance of tongues that felt less like a battle and more like a slow dance. Every breath we shared was synchronized, a rhythmic hum of longing that made the frantic energy of the room dissolve into a hazy, golden blur.

I flipped us over, laying to our side as I wrapped my arms around her in a cocoon. Every movement became a slow, deliberate exploration; my lips traced the line of her jaw, lingering on the soft dip of her chin before finding her mouth once more. There was no urgency now, just the quiet sound of our breathing. I kissed her with a lingering sweetness, our tongues swirling in a lazy dance that felt like we were trying to memorize every taste and texture of one another.

She shifted her weight, pressing her chest against mine with a softness that felt like a sanctuary. This wasn't the hungry, frantic energy Momo brought to the bed; this was something deeper, a slow-motion immersion into one another.

"You did great back there, Fumi..." Miyeon uttered.

"I never thought I'd see my dad so happy without scaring my boyfriend off... Hehe... You really are a natural," she whispered, her voice a soft purr against my ear.

"Anything for you, Princess..." I uttered back.

"Ohh... These two again..." Sana was being dramatic once more.

"Come here, Momoring... Let us make love like a proper couple," Sana sighed, her voice dripping with a fake, heartbroken sorrow that would have won her an Oscar.

"Yes, Sana...  Let us indulge in our own little secret," Momo purred.

And with that, they were all over each other. Those two weren't just kissing, they were basically trying to merge into a single person. Sana’s fingers tangled deep into Momo’s short hair, pulling her head back at a sharp angle to expose the pale line of her throat, while Momo responded by hiking Sana’s legs up over her shoulders. It was a desperate, messy collision of lips and teeth, the sound of their wet, open-mouthed kissing filling the silence of the room like a rhythmic, sloppy percussion.

"Well... I guess we'll leave them to it..." Miyeon uttered.

And on that note, I kissed her once more, this time with a little more bite, as we both drifted into our own private bubble. Miyeon shifted her hips, her skin feeling like heated silk against mine as she guided me back into her heat.

I pushed in, the heat of her clit meeting me with a soft, welcoming squelch. Miyeon didn't just take me; she wrapped around me, her inner walls pulsing in a slow squeeze that felt like a warm hug for my cock. I didn't rush it. I let my forehead rest against hers, our breaths mingling in a humid cloud as I slowly drove myself deeper, feeling every single ridge of her as we became one.

"Ohhh, yes..." She sighed out in satisfaction when I felt myself fully filling her.

Every ridge and every fiber of her clit was like a velvet-lined corridor, treating my cock not as a commoner, but as a visiting dignitary. Being inside Princess Jo Miyeon was like being granted entry into a forbidden sanctuary, where the walls were made of shimmering, scorching silk and the atmosphere was thick with an oppressive, royal heat. Her muscles didn't just squeeze; they performed a slow, rhythmic homage, pulsing around my shaft with a grace and precision that felt curated, like her body had been practicing this welcome for a thousand years.

Every thrust I gave her were like slow curated blows that were worthy only for a living deity such as Miyeon. I didn't just fuck her; I worshiped her, my movements measured and deep, savoring the way her body clung to me with a desperate, needy grip. We weren't fighting for air or rushing toward a finish line; we were simply living in the friction, our hearts beating in a singular, heavy thud that echoed the rhythm of my hips sliding against hers. I could feel the moisture pooling between us, a slick, warm lubricant that made every slide feel like we were melting into one another, dissolving the boundaries of where my skin ended and hers began.

"Faster, Fumi... Give it to me, My Prince..." She pleaded, in which I obliged.

The slow dance ended right then and there. I gripped her hips hard and started hammering into her with a raw, primal urgency that knocked the breath out of her lungs. The rhythmic, curated movements were gone, replaced by frantic, wet slapping sounds of my pelvis colliding with hers. I wasn't just visiting a sanctuary anymore; I was tearing through it, each thrust driving me deeper into her scorching heat as the bedframe began to groan under the impact of our bodies.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit! Shit!"

The vulgarities have come out and so did the Princess facade crumbling down like the walls of an empire. The kiss we shared was now made out of gasps and frantic whimpers, our tongues colliding with a hunger that mirrored the war of our thighs happening down below. I could feel her internals clamping onto me, her body arching off the mattress as I buried myself to the hilt, again and again.

I stole a glance towards Momo and Sana who were in a battle of grit between their clits. Their pussies slid and grinded against one another as their legs were coiled in a scissoring lock. The sound of their wet friction was like a lewd melody that synchronized with the heavy thuds of me fucking Miyeon.

The Korean girl yelped at every deep plunge, her fingers clawing deeper into my shoulders as she took the full weight of my momentum. I could feel the pressure of her building, her inner walls beginning to spasm around my dick in a series of frantic ripples. Her voice, once a royal purr, had devolved into a series of broken and high-pitched whimpers. She was starting to thrash beneath me, her back arching off the sheets as she tried to push herself further onto me, her breath coming in ragged gasps that sounded like she was drowning in her own pleasure.

"Ahhhh! F-Fumi!!! Fuck!!! AHHHHH!!!"

Miyeon screamed, her orgasm undoing her in a messy, soaking rush. Her pussy fluttered and gushed around my cock, juices coating my thighs as her body convulsed beneath me. 

From the side I heard Sana moan loudly in response, the wet sounds of her and Momo’s scissoring growing faster. 

I thought, Shit… They were all losing it altogether.

Miyeon was still trembling and clenching around my cock when I heard Sana’s voice crack into a high cry. 

“Momo-san! I’m— I’m cumming!!” Her body arched hard against Momo’s, their soaked pussies grinding together in messy frantic strokes. 

“Cum for me, Sana— fuck, me too!” Momo groaned, voice husky and rough. 

And that was where both of them came almost simultaneously, bodies locking together for a few seconds before they both collapsed in opposite directions.

Sana landed on her back to my right side, chest heaving, legs spread wide as her pussy continued to twitch and leak clear juices onto the sheets. Momo collapsed on her back to my left, one arm draped lazily over her eyes, her thighs still trembling as her own orgasm rippled through her. Their bodies were like a messy, satisfied V-shape on the bed — both of them glistening with slick sweat, breathing heavily in the afterglow.

I thought, Holy shit… What a view…

With a sigh, I slowly pulled out of Miyeon, my cock sliding free from her tight heat with a wet, obscene sound. As soon as I left her, a thick rush of her love juices spilled out of her spent cunt, dripping slowly down between her legs. Her pretty folds were swollen, flushed dark pink, and still twitching from the aftershocks. A small gush of mixed cum leaked out every time her walls fluttered.

The girl looked completely wrecked — her long hair messy and sticking to her flushed face, eyes half-lidded and glassy, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs stayed spread wide, too tired to close, giving me a perfect view of her ruined, glistening pussy. The Princess who had charmed her parents earlier was nowhere to be seen. In her place was a thoroughly fucked-out girl, limp and glowing with sweat.

Without a word, Miyeon and I exchanged a knowing look and started to switch places. Miyeon crawled weakly toward Momo, while I slid closer to Sana, her eyes dark with lingering lust. I slowly approached my girlfriend, my cock still rock hard and glistening with Miyeon’s cum as I positioned myself between her spread legs.

Miyeon reached Momo and immediately collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies pressing together. Miyeon’s face buried into Momo’s neck as she mumbled something tired but affectionate. Momo’s arm lazily wrapped around Miyeon’s waist, pulling her closer even as she was still catching her breath.

Meanwhile, I hovered over Sana, drinking in the sight of her beautiful, flushed face and the way her soaked pussy glistened like an invitation. She reached up, gently grabbing my cock and guiding it toward her entrance, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Put it in, babe…” Sana whispered breathlessly.

I obliged. Grabbing my shaft, I pressed the swollen head against her slick entrance and pushed forward slowly. The feeling of sliding back inside Sana was pure bliss — warm and so perfectly tight like she had been molded for me through lifetimes before. 

Her walls welcomed me in a smooth, wet embrace, rippling and squeezing around every inch as I sank deeper until I was fully buried inside. Fuck! It was like coming home. Sana’s pussy always felt different from the others — hotter, silkier, and somehow more intimate, like every ridge and soft fold had been made to hug my cock perfectly. I groaned deeply, savoring the way she fluttered around me, already soaking me further with fresh arousal.

“Sana…” I breathed, leaning down to kiss her as my hips pressed flush against hers.

I kissed her like she was my everything. Our lips met softly at first, then deepened into something slow and loving. Her mouth was always warm and sweet, her tongue gently dancing with mine in unhurried strokes that made my chest feel tight. Every little sigh and whimper she let out vibrated against my lips as I held her close. There was no rush — just pure affection and heat, the kind of kiss that made time feel like it had slowed down just for us.

At the same time, I slowly rolled my hips, thrusting into her with deep, careful strokes. I wasn’t pounding; not yet — We were making love, savoring every inch as I slid in and out of her tight, silky cunt. Sana’s walls fluttered around me with every gentle thrust, hugging me warmly like she never wanted to let go. Her legs wrapped loosely around my waist, pulling me even deeper as we moved together in a slow, intimate rhythm.

She moaned softly into my mouth, her fingers threading through my hair as our bodies rocked together. The wet, quiet sounds of my cock sliding in and out of her soaked pussy mixed beautifully with our heavy breathing and the gentle smack of our lips.

Sana pulled her lips away lightly, just enough to look into my eyes with that playful, teasing smile I loved so much. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was still uneven from our kiss.

“Are you gonna leave me again? Have you been having fun with Miyeon too much?” she whispered, her voice soft but laced with mischief as she gently clenched her pussy around my cock.

I couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle that turned into a groan when she squeezed me again. Even while teasing me, her inner walls rippled warmly around my shaft, pulling me deeper with every slow thrust I gave her.

“Never,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers as I continued rocking into her with the same slow, caring rhythm. 

“It's always been you, Sana… Always…” Sana let out a satisfied little hum, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of my neck. 

“As long as you don’t leave me for Miyeon, that is…” I teased back, brushing my nose against hers affectionately while continuing my slow, deep strokes inside her.

Sana let out a soft giggle that quickly turned into a breathy moan as I filled her again. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer as our playful teasing mixed with the intimate rhythm of our bodies.

Sana’s expression softened, her playful smile turning into something tender and sincere. “I promise… I’ll never leave you. None of us will. We belong together — always,” she whispered against my lips before kissing me again, slow and full of love.

I kept fucking Sana with deep, unhurried thrusts, savoring the way her tight, silky cunt welcomed every inch of me. She was so warm and wet inside, her walls hugging me perfectly like they were made for me. Each slow push made her moan softly into my mouth, her body rocking gently beneath me in perfect sync with my rhythm. The feeling was intimate, almost reverent — like we were melting into each other with every careful stroke.

Meanwhile on the other side, Momo had Miyeon on all fours in a deep doggystyle position, the thick strap-on buried inside her cunt. Momo gripped Miyeon’s hips firmly with both hands, thrusting hard and steady, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Miyeon’s face was pressed into the pillow, moaning loudly as Momo fucked her from behind with powerful, rhythmic strokes, her fit and athletic body moving with familiar confidence and hunger.

“Ahh—! Momo-san… fuck—!” Miyeon moaned loudly, her voice breaking in the middle as Momo drove the strap-on deep into her from behind. Each powerful thrust pushed a fresh cry out of her throat, her body jolting forward while her fingers gripped the sheets tightly. 

“So deep…! Ahhn!!”

Momo didn’t slow down. She leaned over Miyeon’s back, one hand sliding up to grab a fistful of her long hair, pulling her head back slightly as she pounded into her harder. The wet, filthy sounds of the strap-on plunging in and out of Miyeon’s soaked pussy mixed with her desperate moans, creating an erotic symphony on their side of the beds.

The sight of them, Momo fucking Miyeon so hard — the way Miyeon’s body shook with every brutal thrust, her long hair being pulled, and those loud, broken moans — riled me up instantly. 

Something primal stirred inside me. My slow, loving pace with Sana disappeared in seconds. I grabbed Sana’s hips tightly and started fucking her hard, slamming my cock deep into her cunt with rough, powerful strokes. The wet slapping sounds of our bodies colliding filled the air as I pounded into her without restraint.

Her eyes widened for a split second before she threw her head back and moaned loudly. “Ahh—! Fumi!! Yes— fuck me!!” Her voice turned raw and desperate, completely different from the soft whispers earlier. 

Our once gentle and loving sex had become raw — primal, animalistic, and intense. I fucked her like I was claiming her, my hips snapping forward relentlessly while her tight pussy clenched around me with every deep thrust.

There were many nights back home where Sana and I would take things slow. We’d spend entire afternoons and evenings making love for hours — soft kisses, gentle caresses, and deep, unhurried strokes that felt like we had all the time in the world. Those days were filled with whispered “I love yous” and long, passionate sessions where we explored each other tenderly.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And from the way things were going, it wasn’t going to be like that throughout this entire trip in Korea either. The hunger, the new environment, and the sight of Momo destroying Miyeon right beside us had flipped a switch. Right now, all I wanted was to fuck Sana hard and deep, and she was taking every brutal thrust like she needed it just as badly.

“Fumi—! I’m close… I’m so close!!” Sana suddenly cried out. Her walls started fluttering wildly around my cock, gripping me tighter with every hard thrust.

“Fuck— me too,” I growled, feeling my own orgasm rapidly building. 

I was right on the edge, the pressure in my balls growing unbearable as I kept pounding into her soaked, clenching cunt.

Then as if they had heard us, Momo & Miyeon suddenly stopped and made their way towards us. Miyeon leaned in and captured Sana’s lips in a hungry kiss that muffled her mouth. At the same moment, Momo grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a fierce kiss while I continued thrusting hard into Sana. Momo’s tongue invaded my mouth aggressively, matching the primal rhythm of my hips as I fucked Sana without slowing down.

The kiss with Momo was messy and full of teeth — while I kept slamming deep into Sana’s tight heat. Sana moaned loudly into Miyeon’s mouth, her body trembling harder as the sensations overwhelmed her.

Momo then pulled back just enough to breathe against my lips, her voice low and commanding.

“Paint us, baka… Don’t be greedy…” Her words hit me like a spark. 

And with that, I pulled out of Sana’s clit at the very last second. Momo and Miyeon quickly leaned in closer, their faces right next to Sana’s as I stroked myself furiously. Thick ropes of cum shot across all three of them — landing on Sana’s chest and neck, streaking Miyeon’s cheek, and hitting Momo’s lips and tongue. The three of them looked up at me with flushed, satisfied faces, breathing heavily as my load painted their skin.

Once again, I found myself asking, what did I do to deserve this? Two straight years of weekly groupies and the sight of MiSaMo, as I’d like to call them, still riles me to my core.

The three of them looked spent yet utterly breathtaking. Sana lay in the middle, chest rising and falling rapidly, her beautiful face flushed and glistening with streaks of my cum across her lips, chin, and breasts. Miyeon was on her right, looking every bit the disheveled princess — long hair messy, one cheek painted with my load, eyes half-closed in exhaustion as a tired but satisfied smile played on her lips. Momo, on the left, had the most wicked, exhausted grin of all, my cum coating her tongue and lower lip as she lazily licked it off.

All three of them were covered in sweat, their bodies marked with the evidence of our intense night — flushed skin, messy hair, and the unmistakable shine of cum and juices between their thighs.

I finally collapsed right next to them, completely drained. Two years of group sex with them yet I’m still not used to the exhaustion that always came after. My body felt heavy, my muscles aching in the best way possible as I pulled all three girls closer to me in a tangled, sticky pile.

As I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, a thought lingered in my mind…

…I still had to take Miyeon home.

*Epilogue

“You better make sure he comes back, babe,” Sana uttered, her dramatic demeanor coming back once more while I fixed myself. 

“Of course, honey. There's no way Fumi's sleeping there with daddy around…”

Miyeon giggled as she tucked her shirt back down. 

She stood up and took my hand, giving the other two girls a soft, affectionate look. 

“We'll be quick, I promise…”

“Okay… Bye…”

“And don't forget our drinks!” Momo added before we could even reach the door, waving lazily from the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll grab some on the way back. Anything specific?”

“Something sweet that'll get me to sleep!” Sana called out, already curling up against Momo under the blanket.

And with that, we waved them goodbye and we slipped out of the motel room hand-in-hand, the cool Incheon air hitting us the moment we stepped outside. 

The residential streets were quiet at this hour, lined with neatly trimmed hedges and modest homes that mixed traditional Korean tile roofs with modern concrete builds. Soft orange streetlights glowed along the sidewalk, and the distant hum of traffic from the main road reminded us we weren’t too far from the city’s energy, like it was a smaller version of Osaka back home. 

Miyeon leaned into me as we walked, our fingers intertwined. For a while we simply enjoyed the peaceful night, listening to the occasional bark of a dog or the soft rustle of leaves nearby.

“It still feels a little surreal,” She said quietly after a few minutes. 

“Being back here with you… and them. I keep thinking my parents are going to figure everything out.” She added.

I squeezed her hand gently. “They don't have to, you know. It'll be too hard trying to explain our ‘dynamics’.” I explained.

“Haha! You're not wrong there!” Miyeon laughed softly. 

We turned a corner, and the path opened up slightly. In the distance, past a row of low buildings, I could see the faint glow of lights reflecting off water. The salty scent in the air grew stronger.

I glanced at Miyeon, then at the direction of the harbor. 

“Hey… since we’re already out here and it’s still a bit early, want to make a stop at the docks? Just for a few minutes. I’ve never seen Incheon’s port at night.”

Miyeon tilted her head, a small smile forming on her lips. 

“The docks? You’re feeling romantic tonight, huh?” She gave my hand a playful tug. 

“Okay. But only for a little bit. I really do need to get back before Appa starts getting suspicious.” She stated.

We took a short detour toward the waterfront. As we got closer, the view opened up beautifully. I thought, Wow! This was so not like Osaka's coast! The docks stretched out before us, with large cargo ships anchored in the distance, their lights twinkling like stars on the dark water. The gentle lap of waves against the concrete piers mixed with the low hum of machinery in the background. The Korean sea breeze felt refreshing after the shit that went down back in the motel room.

I stopped near the edge of the promenade, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene. The city lights reflected off the water’s surface, creating shimmering patterns that danced with every small wave. It was peaceful, almost magical in its own industrial way.

I felt Miyeon stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my waist. I pulled her into a warm embrace, resting my chin gently on top of her head as we stood there together. For a long moment, we just held each other, listening to the water and feeling the cool night air around us.

When she finally looked up, our eyes met. In the soft glow of the dock lights, she looked even more beautiful than usual. I leaned down slowly, and our lips met in a tender, lingering kiss — slow and full of quiet affection. No rush, no audience… just us.

When we pulled apart, Miyeon rested her forehead against mine, a soft smile on her face.

“I’m so happy I brought you here…” she whispered. 

“I never thought I'd get to experience something like this here… You have no idea how many times I've seen my classmates have their dates here… And now, I finally get to experience it myself…” She added.

“I must be the lucky one, I guess…” I replied.

I kissed her again deeper this time, pouring everything I felt into it. Our lips moved together slowly, tenderly, like the rest of the world just faded away. The cold breeze, the lights on the water, and the rhythm of the waves all seemed to wrap around us like our own private little bubble.

The moment felt perfect — just us, no pretending, no hiding. In these few precious minutes, it was simply Jo Miyeon and I. No secrets, no worried parents waiting nearby, just two beautiful people who had found something real in the midst of all the madness in the world. The kind of quiet, heartfelt connection that made all the sneaking around and pretending worth it.

And when we finally parted, Miyeon’s eyes sparkled under the dock lights. She gave me one last gentle squeeze before stepping back, though her fingers lingered in mine.

“We should probably head back,” she said softly, though she didn’t sound particularly eager to leave.

My attention was suddenly taken on the view of her back. The place had the kind of vibes that were lively yet different. I could see the different signs and languages from a distance. It looked like a place worth exploring. Maybe the girls and I can have some time to get there.

“What is that place, Miyeon? It looks lively?” I asked.

When Miyeon turned, I was rather surprised to see her face stunned, reluctant rather, as if the question had caught her off guard. She hesitated for a second, glancing toward the brightly lit area in the distance before looking back at me.

“That’s… Chinatown,” she said quietly. 

“Incheon’s Chinatown. It’s got great food and nice shops, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip. 

“I’d rather not go there, Fumi… T-The… Triads… Know how to blend in with the crowd.” She added.

“Triads? Here? In Korea?” I asked, much to my surprise.

“Yeah. I couldn't believe it either, babe. But apparently, that place was on fire last year.” She explained.

Ooh, this was getting interesting. The Chinese triads were also a topic by our superiors and professors back home. I've heard stories about encroachment between them and the Yakuza back in Tokyo, in the infamous Kabukicho district specifically.

I thought, Damn! I didn't think I'd get dragged into a history lesson so soon! I didn't think Korea would be a target for the criminal underground. But with Miyeon's reluctance to explore the area, my instincts couldn't help but inquire for more details.

“What happened?” I asked plainly.

For a moment, I thought Miyeon would just leave it there and sigh. Yet it didn't take long before she gave me some response, albeit reluctantly.

“Well… They said the triads used to be a group of three, Fumi. Now they're all just one.” She started.

“Last year, they had a meeting of sorts, in that restaurant over there.”

“The one that ‘KingChow’ sign?”

“Yes. It's crazy really. I used to eat there with my friends.” She replied.

“But anyways. Around last year, the restaurant hosted a Halloween party where the bosses held a meeting on the upper floor. The meeting went bad and a shootout took place, killing two of the bosses. The one boss was greedy and wanted all of Incheon to complete the takeover. For a few days, everyone thought that was it, the new boss was now in charge and he could now relax. But that was where he was wrong…” She continued.

“The survivors of that ambush tracked him all the way up to Seoul, and murdered him in cold blood deep into the heart of the city. They said there was a car chase between the assassin and the authorities but the killer was never caught to this day.” She added.

“And the next thing I knew, there was only one boss now, the head chef of that KingChow Restaurant, a guy I've seen before…” She concluded, her ending statement sending chills down my spine.

“Really? You met the guy?” I couldn't help but be shocked.

Miyeon chuckled, increasing my anxiety before calming me down.

“Ya! It wasn't like that, Fumi!” She said,

“I saw him a few times when I used to eat there with my friends, or with Eomma and Appa. He was kind of handsome, to be honest! For a guy who was just a waiter, my friends used to gossip about how cute he was. And to my classmates who still live there, they all say he was now in charge not just of the restaurant, but also the triad guys roaming around.” She stated.

“Wow… That's quite the story…” I couldn't help but utter.

“But how do I know you're not making things up? You were with us this whole time when that incident took place.” I added, my questioning tactics now in full display to my Korean girlfriend as I pulled to hug her tighter, as if a triad goon would suddenly pop up.

“You can ask daddy once you meet him again. That was just some of his rumblings when he had an old friend come over. But when Mother backs up his claims, then I'd rather not question any further.” She replied.

We stood there for a few more moments, the weight of her story lingering in the cool night air. The distant lights of Chinatown suddenly felt a lot less inviting. I glanced one last time toward the glowing signs before shaking my head.

“Alright, Princess. No Chinatown tonight,” I said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

“Let’s get you home before your dad starts thinking I have you in my bed.” Miyeon nodded, slipping her hand back into mine as we turned away from the docks. 

The walk back felt a little quieter now, the earlier romantic mood mixing with a subtle edge of caution. Still, she stayed close, leaning into my side as we retraced our steps through the peaceful residential streets.

By the time we reached her family’s gate, the lights inside the house were still on, but softer than before. Miyeon turned to me under the dim glow of the porch lantern, rising onto her tiptoes to give me one last sweet kiss.

“Thank you for tonight… for everything,” she whispered. 

“Text me when you get back safely, okay?”

“I will,” I promised, giving her hand a final squeeze. “Sleep well, Princess.”

I waited until she slipped safely inside the gate and the front door closed behind her before letting out a long breath. With one last look at the quiet house, I turned around and started heading back toward the motel — drinks for the girls in mind, and a head full of unexpected stories about Incheon’s underworld.

The night was still young, and I had a feeling our Korean adventure was only getting started.

Notes: Believe it or not, this is actually one of the last few chapters I have for this saga. Maybe one or two more and that concludes the impurities of our favorite Japanese friends.

I wonder what happens next?

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A month of “accidental touches” and “casual bumps” had led me to this. I never thought I needed a young competent and obedient girl like her to make me feel alive once more.

My wife and I were barely in our sixties when a stroke suddenly crippled her body. Her mind followed soon after, Alzheimer’s.

I’d rather not talk about how many times she had woken up thinking she was in bed with someone else. It hurt. It hurts so much! I thought about sending her to day care but our kids fucking refused. I mean, who the hell were they to tell me what to do when it’s not even them having to change their mother’s diapers or feed her in bed?

And that’s where Im Dayoung came in. She was a caregiver and registered nurse assigned to my wife back in the hospital. And from the very moment we laid eyes, I could tell she was trouble.

Her skirt was always too high and her blouse too low. There hasn’t been a day since last month that my eyes met her thick thighs or her tits bulged out of her blouse. Her buttons looked like they were fighting for dear life, a flash of her bra, black, pink, purple, red, you name it, I saw them all, I always did.

And what else were an able-bodied man and a sexy young and able-bodied woman were supposed to do when they were stuck in a room with a bed-ridden patient that slept most of the time because of her antibiotics?

Like I said, a few touches here and there led us to this. I didn't just want her; I needed the feeling of someone who wasn't breaking apart.

Right now, she was basically a resident of my household. My wife was too dumb or too deluded to even remember who she was or what her name was. The days went by and so did Dayoung’s clothes. Gone were the caregiver uniforms and nurse's scrubs.

Tonight, she was wearing a tight purple shirt, if you could even call it that, and these really small and tight shorts that just hugged her thighs and flaunted her ass-crack. One could argue that by next week, she might as well look after my wife naked.

I didn't waste time. I held the girl up her ass and hoisted her up against the wall. She felt like a warm, soft weight of sin against my chest. My hands didn't hesitate; they slid right under that shirt, finding the soft layer of her lacy black bra that has been teasing me all day!

“Oooh… Easy, Mr. Richards…” She cooed.

“You’re going to sprain your wrists again…” She added, her concern and professionalism still present even in times of sin.

“You’re worth the pain…” I muttered back.

I took her out of the wall to take us to my couch, my arms and lips never leaving hers as I slammed my ass down, my thighs cracking when her bum landed flush.

“Are you alright?” She inquired.

I tried to play it cool, but the wince that came out of my lips told me that the cramp was significant. I thought, God! Not this too! It was one of those moments where I felt my age come to me. I’d have this girl all day anytime if I wasn’t diagnosed with arthritis. The doctors may have said they were mild, but in times like these, when a girl like Im Dayoung was sitting on my lap, the pain felt like an insult to my well-being.

“Here… Let me do something else instead…” She purred.

Before I could even ask, the girl was already down between my legs, her knees resting on my carpet as she pulled down my pants. I wasn’t hard quite yet, but Dayoung’s hands rested on the sprained area and it didn’t take long for her fingers to do their magic!

“Ohhh yeah…”

The massage was purely clinical at first, her thumbs digging into the tension of my thighs with a practiced precision that made me groan. But the second she shifted her grip, the professionalism was long gone. Her small, warm hands slid up and down to cup me. She didn't just touch; she squeezed, her eyes looking up at me with that familiar look that told me she knew exactly was doing.

The girl leaned in, the maw of her mouth, young, warm and wet as she took me in with a slow suction. Dayoung didn't rush; she never did. I let out a ragged breath, my fingers instinctively digging into her scalp, pulling her closer as she began a rhythmic, sliding motion.

Every second was like an eternity. I’m taken back 30 years, the last time I felt my wife’s jaw tighten around my dick. She always struggled taking my cock, but this girl, Im Dayoung, was blowing me like her mouth was meant for it! Every time she did this, I always asked, was I always this big? Or is her mouth just that small?

My tip always reached the back of her throat. Every angle and every position that we’ve done it always dragged my cock’s peak deep right next to her larynx.

She didn’t need my hands nor my commands to take me further. She just bobs her head up and down rapidly, even encouraging me to grab fistfuls of her hair as she takes me deeper or makes me thrust my hips in and out of her mouth. The girl just took it, her eyes watering and her throat making these guttural, wet sounds of submission that drove me wild. It was like this that I wasn't being gentle. Her mouth was like a toy, slamming into my crotch with a desperate, starving energy, feeling the tight ring of her throat clench around me every time I bottomed out.

I pushed deep inside her mouth one more time before abruptly pulling out, her breath coming out of her lips so loud you’d think a distraught animal just entered the room. The girl didn’t waste time. Dayoung stood up and stripped in front of me, tugging shorts and thong down in one go, and tossed that blasted purple shirt out of her chest, leaving her in a discarded lacy black bra that wasn’t properly clinging on to her chest, her dark nipples poking out of the cups’ edge.

She didn’t think twice and sunk down, her eyes not leaving mine as I felt her inner walls fold around me.

“G-God…”

For a 27 year old girl, she was at the prime of her lifetime. I was just as adventurous and playful as this girl was when I was her age. Her tightness was something that I never thought I would be lucky enough to experience again, a crushing pressure that felt like it was trying to wring every drop of life out of me.

My hips barely moved; they didn’t have to. Im Dayoung was like sex incarnate! Every angle and every slight change of position was like a preemptive and precise attack on my pleasure. She arched her back, her chest heaving as those dark nipples grazed my skin, and she began to ride me with a frantic, desperate speed.

Her hips moved gracefully like that of a Latina dancer. I’m thinking of Shakira or that one the younger generation called, Tyla. She had that song that said to make her sway like water. That’s exactly how Im Dayoung was moving right now…

There was no way my wife could move like this even if you took us back! Dayoung was like a wave moving smoothly into my groin like her body was designed solely to house my nuts. She threw her head back, her throat arching into a long, pale line of submission, her long blonde hair whipping across my chest like a lash.

And when her arms rested on my shoulders, she started bouncing, constantly plowing and impaling herself back and forth against my cock like she was trying to reach my soul. I felt her internal walls clench and ripple around me, a tight, wet vacuum that sucked me deeper with every slam. I could hear the wet, slapping sound of her pelvic bone hitting mine, a rhythmic thud that echoed through the silent living room while my wife lay oblivious and brain-dead just on the other side of that door! The risk of it all—the sheer, filthy audacity of this—only made the friction feel hotter, more electric.

“Are you feeling better Mr. Richards? Are you almost there?” She inquired in the midst of her bouncing.

“Y-Yes, Dayoung… I feel so much better… A-Almost there…” I grunted.

And this was where we would get out of control. This was the moment where the haze and the fog of lust consumed us. Our bodies were now moving on their own, our eyes shut or half shut as our movements become erratic and inconsistent.

All I could think about was the grip of my hands on her waist, guiding her in whatever form and rhythm she was now in.

All I could feel was the warmth and the tightness of her young warm clit closing in on me, ready to spritz as she pushed herself down to the hilt. I shifted my grip, digging my fingers into the soft meat of her thighs to lock her in place, and then I bucked upward with every bit of strength my aging frame could muster. Dayoung bit her own hand to stifle her moans, her inner muscles pulsing in a series of rhythmic, violent contractions that clamped around my shaft like a vice.

It was only a matter of time now. Every second and every thrust was bringing us closer and closer to edge until…

“I’m cumming… M-Mr. Richards… D-Daddy… I-I… Ahhhhh…”

And that was when I felt it. A large volume of liquid came spewing out of our thighs, right were our bodies interlocked. Her body vibrated in jolts of electricity, her pussy walls clamping down on me so hard I thought she might actually snap my cock.

The sigh that left my lips was something I never recognized. I never did. The sound always changed, yet the reason was always the same. I came. I came inside Im Dayoung. I always did.

I might’ve spewed out my jizz elsewhere, but her womb was always the jackpot. I often asked her if she was worried, but the girl never complained. A box of birth control pills was always there by the medkit. There hasn’t been a day since last month where my cock rested in her clit and my sperm flooded her womb. That would’ve given me a third child if she wasn’t protected.

“Are you satisfied now, sir? Do you feel relieved?” She asked, though her voice still had that purr of sin lingering in her tone in which I couldn’t help but nod.

“Yes, Dayoung… You did a wonderful job…” I replied.

And it only took a split second for her to go from needy little brat to registered nurse once more.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up, Mr. Richards. It’s time for you to take your medicine…”

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Zhang Lipeng and I were on guard duty, the meeting for a truce between our 3 clans taking place just beyond the sliding door right in front of us!

This was how conflicts between our clans were always solved. The master's restaurant has served as a meeting place for neutral ground. This war between us has got to stop! Too much bloodshed has already happened, too many bodies Zhang and I have dumped in the dead of night.

"To tell you the truth, I really don't know, brother... I know this meeting was necessary... But I'd breathe a lot better if Asi was around..." He admitted.

"Yeah! Did you see him go out with that Shan Cai chick? And fuck, that friend of hers as well!"

"Oh? You mean the one in the tube dress? The one Chong Yibo kept wrapping his arm over?" Zhang chuckled, the sound grating against the heavy silence of the hallway.

"Bro, seriously... The fucking tits of that girl... How the hell did Miss Shan Cai become friends with someone like that? The girl was clearly playing into Chong Yibo's games..." I trailed off, my mind drifting to the way that tube dress had barely clung to her curves, straining against her breasts every time she laughed.

"I swear to the heavens, if I wasn't married right now, I would've-"

"Quiet! You're making me sweat just thinking about it," Zhang Lipeng hissed, though his eyes were glazed over, clearly picturing the same image.

He shifted his weight, the leather of his holster creaking against his side. The tension in the hallway was thick from the potential for a bloodbath behind the sliding doors. We were two grown men standing guard over a fragile peace, yet our minds were wandering to the scent of cheap perfume and the sound of a dress ripping under the pressure of a desperate hand.

I thought, Fuck! That girl's breasts were not getting out of my head anytime soon! Maybe a slight change of topic was going to clear our heads.

"Bro... Do you remember how Baron Go Junyong passed away?" I uttered, talking about the current Baron's late father, and the *circumstances* behind it.

"Pfft... Dude... You really wanna talk about that?" He started to chuckle, the sound turning into a wheezing cough.

"Come on, we were there with the master when we went to the coroner. You know what the master said." He added.

"Yeah! But what did the master NOT tell the coroner?" I asked, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"That he got crushed underneath his mistress..." He wheezed, leaning against the wall for support.

"She was so fat that she broke all his ribs... And the master said to the coroner..."

"That he got kicked by a horse..." I finished the memory of the Master’s deadpan face while lying to the medical examiner hitting me all over again.

Zhang Lipeng lost it. He doubled over, a loud, hacking wheeze escaping his throat as he tried to stifle his laughter. He looked like he was having a seizure, his face turning a deep purple as he fought to keep the noise down. I joined him, the kind of belly laugh that makes your ribs ache, picturing the Baron's pristine reputation being crushed under three hundred pounds of a mistress who looked like a planet. We were practically vibrating against the wall, two grown soldiers of the triad reduced to giggling schoolboys over a dead man's embarrassing exit.

"Oh man, that's so funny... If only he was here to stop this war though..."

"Y-Yeah... He was one heck of a man..." Zhang Lipeng finally gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

Despite the silly way he’d gone out, Baron Go Junyong had been the kind of leader who could walk into a room of screaming killers and make them shut up just by clearing his throat. He didn't rule through fear alone; he had a way of making you feel like your loyalty wasn't just a requirement, but a point of pride.

"Okay, okay... That’s enough... Let's get serious," he gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

He straightened his suit, the humor vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. The laughter had acted like a temporary shield, but the reality of the room ten feet away crashed back down on us. We could hear the low, rhythmic murmur of the 4 bosses, their voices devoid of emotion, discussing territories and percentages. It was the sound of men who traded in lives and weighed peace by how much it would cost them in the short term.

"Now we know why we are meeting, so let's get on with it, huh?" The Master's voice drifted through the sliding door, his tone as dry as old parchment.

Chef Wong Kausang didn't shout; he didn't have to. His authority was a physical weight in the room, a gravity that kept these volatile men in their seats. We stood perfectly still, the silence of the hallway returning, though it felt different now—heavier, like the air before a summer storm breaks.

"Despite all the misgivings, I'm here on the promise to find a settlement." I hear Master Chong Chi-tan of the San triad speak, his voice thin and reedy.

"Too much blood has been spilled." Lau Ka Long spoke, the head of the Siao group. His voice was a gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate the very floorboards beneath our boots.

"Because you broke your word. And you can't control your men..." Master Chong's voice shifted, the reedy tone sharpening into something jagged.

For a moment, there was silence, a vacuum of sound that made the distant hum of the restaurant's refrigerators feel like a roar. Then came the rather unexpected words from Ka Long...

"Are you asking for MY protection?"

Ok, now why the fuck would he would say that when it was his men who did the hit on the docks last month? I exchanged a glance with Zhang Lipeng. The air in the hallway shifted; the low-frequency rumble of the conversation had spiked into something sharper, more erratic. It wasn't the sound of a negotiation anymore; it felt like some sort of trap being set.

"I've seen how things turn out for those that you look after..." Master Chong replied until Master Wong stepped in.

"Hey, hey... Let's dispense with the recriminations, shall we?" He said.

Now that was the Master Wong that I knew, the Master Wong Chausang Zhang Lipeng and I both knew from all the years that we've spent in this restaurant. He could stop a fight before it started by just saying something a bit weird, or just saying something that would make the other person think for a second. But as we both know, the problem with peace is that it's always a fragile thing. It's like a piece of glass, once it's broken, you can't put it back together without the cracks showing.

"War is bad for business." Lau Ka Long said,

"You want a settlement? We have a proposal." He added.

"We?"

"Please, hear him out..." The young baron Go Jaemyeong finally spoke. His voice was strained, lacking the effortless gravity his father once possessed.

"What is this?"

"The Go family is selling up, Chong Chi-Tan. His stake in the port. Prospecting and water rights on the coastal side of town. Including his hotel, the one you've taken up as your house." He added.

I thought, no way! Just like that? The Go family had held onto the port for three generations. That was the heart of the operation! Both goods and people were smuggled into that port! That very same port where the master took me, Zhang Lipeng, Hao Mingsi and among others who have worked for him!

"I ask again. What is this?" Master Chong’s voice didn't just sharpen; it sliced.

"I have been left without a choice." Baron Go said.

"I'll offer a market rate for all your remaining holdings as a mark of respect." Lau Ka Long’s voice cut through the tension, but it wasn't a gesture of goodwill.

It was a scavengers' bid. By offering to buy out the Go family, Lau Ka Long wasn't just expanding his empire; he was effectively erasing the Go bloodline from the map of Incheon. He was offering a golden parachute to a man who was already falling, ensuring that the San got nothing while he swallowed the port whole.

"You can't be serious!"

"Chi-Tan ssi, please. Don't stand in the way of progress." Go Jaemyeong uttered.

"Progress? What happens when he's eaten everything in sight?!?" Master Chong’s voice rose, losing its composure.

"You keep asking me for Hong Kong stock and trade it for Northern crap?!?! How are you possibly going to manage the customs agents without my conduits, huh?!? No! This is an affront!" Chong Chi-Tan roared.

The sound of hands slamming on the wooden table echoed through the sliding doors, a sharp crack that sounded like a gunshot in the narrow hallway. Zhang Lipeng and I both flinched, our shoulders squaring instinctively, hands drifting toward our waistbands. The air felt electric, ionized by the sudden spike of aggression. For a few seconds, nobody spoke, and the silence that followed was worse than the shouting; it was the kind of silence that happens right after a fuse is lit and everyone is just waiting for the blast.

"It's an opening position..." Lau Ka Long responded.

"I see it has not been received very well. The Baron and I must confer. We may have a more *agreeable* alternative." He added, before I heard the sounds of someone standing up and walking towards the other exit.

"Did you know about this?"

"No. This is my first time hearing of this."

I heard Master Chi-Tan and Master Wong arguing in low, frantic tones, their voices overlapping like a radio tuned between two stations. Beside me, Zhang Lipeng was no longer joking. His jaw was locked tight, and his eyes were darting toward the opposite end of the hallway, scanning for the other guards.

"I think I can convince him. Let me give him one more chance..." I thought I heard the Baron's voice speak to Ka Long, but the words were muffled, distant, as if they were being swallowed by the heavy curtains of the meeting room.

"No..."

That was the only word I heard from Ka Long before I heard the other door shut. I thought, Fuck! Something was definitely up! I knew there was something really wrong because the silence that followed wasn't the kind of silence that meant the meeting was over; it was the kind of silence that happens right before a bomb goes off. I looked at Zhang Lipeng, and I could tell he felt it too. His hand was no longer just drifting toward his waistband; his fingers were wrapped tight around the grip of his sidearm, his knuckles white against the black leather.

And that's when I heard it...

*BANG

"MASTER CHONG!"

One of the guys inside screamed—a raw, guttural sound that was cut short by a wet, choking gurgle. We didn't wait for the order. We lunged forward, our shoulders slamming into the sliding door with enough force to send it rattling off its tracks. The room was a chaotic blur of mahogany and blood. Master Chong was slumped backward in his chair, a dark, glistening hole centered perfectly in his forehead, while Master Wong and a few other San guards were fighting off Siao mercenaries in a frantic, close-quarters scramble.

There was no time to ask questions! Master Chong was dead and the room had dissolved into a melee. I dove into the fray, my shoulder connecting with the jaw of a Siao mercenary who tried to flank Master Wong. The impact felt like hitting a brick wall, but the momentum carried me forward, my forearm smashing into the man's throat to keep him off balance. Beside me, Zhang Lipeng was a whirlwind of calculated violence, his heavy boots cracking ribs as he drove a knee into a guard's midsection, followed by a brutal elbow that shattered the man's nose in a spray of crimson.

"Master! What happened?!?!" Zhang Lipeng asked in the middle of the fight.

The master didn't respond immediately. He was busy fighting off around 3 thugs on his own, his Wing Chun movements so fluid they looked like a slow-motion recording played at double speed. His hands blurred in a series of short, explosive punches—the *Chain Punch*—that hammered into the mercenaries' chests with the rhythmic precision of a piston engine. 

It was the legendary style rumored to be passed down from the grand master Ip Man himself, a geometry of violence where the shortest distance between two points was always a shattering blow. He didn't swing wide or waste energy; he simply occupied the space the enemy tried to take, his center of gravity as immovable as a mountain.

"Lau Ka Long happened!" The Master roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony of breaking porcelain and grunting men.

He didn't break his rhythm, sliding a palm upward to catch a mercenary's chin, snapping the man's head back with a sickening pop. With a fluid pivot, he stepped inside the reach of another attacker, his elbow finding the soft tissue of the man's throat. He wasn't just fighting; he was clearing a path, his eyes cold and focused, devoid of the warmth he showed us in the kitchen.

"Where is Asi?!?!" He bellowed, his voice cracking over the sound of a crashing tea service.

"He went out with Shan Cai! *Oof He and Chong Yibo went out with that girl!*" Zhang Lipeng yelled back, his voice strained as he wrestled a Siao mercenary against the edge of the heavy oak table.

The man fought like a cornered dog, snapping his teeth and clawing at Lipeng's eyes, but Lipeng responded by slamming the man's head into the wood with a dull, hollow thud that silenced the struggle.

"Oh, that's just great! Quick! To the dining station! The rest of you call your master!" He barked out.

Me, along with the master and what was left of our boys, headed out towards the dining area where the layout worked in our favor. The Siao mercenaries were coming in waves now, their faces twisted in predatory grins, but they weren't expecting the narrow bottleneck of the service corridor. 

I stepped into the lead, my knuckles splitting open as I hammered a blow into a man's cheek, feeling the bone give way under my fist. Beside me, Zhang was a wrecking ball, using a heavy ceramic serving tray as a makeshift shield to catch a wild swing before slamming the edge of the metal into the attacker's temple.

"You! Be quick! Call your master! Run to him if you have to!" The master barked out to one of the San boys who had survived the first wave, his eyes scanning the corridor.

He didn't wait for the boy to move before he pivoted, his palm slamming into the chest of a Siao mercenary with a sound like a wet slap. The man flew backward, his breath escaping in a ragged wheeze as he crashed into a stack of dim sum baskets.

I didn't have the luxury of finesse. A mercenary lunged at me with a jagged piece of broken porcelain, the shards glinting under the flickering fluorescent lights. I stepped inside his guard, my shoulder driving into his sternum to kill his momentum, and then drove my thumb deep into the socket of his jaw. 

He groaned, a thick, metallic sound, and collapsed into a heap of expensive fabric and cheap blood. Beside me, Lipeng had become a human meat grinder, grabbing a man by the collar and slamming him head-first into the stainless steel prep table. The clang of metal on skull echoed through the corridor, leaving the attacker twitching on the floor like a landed fish.

I've trusted that man for as long as I could remember, and not because he's a saint. Fighting beside Zhang Lipeng for a decade is like being strapped to a runaway freight train; you just hold on and hope the wreckage doesn't take you with it. We’ve bled out throughout our time here in Korea until the scent of iron became as familiar to us as the smell of the Master's ginger soy. 

From the rain-slicked alleys of Myeong-dong to the windowless basements of Incheon’s shipping district, we developed a shorthand of violence that required no words. I’d take the high ground or the flank, and he’d provide the raw, crushing force, turning a simple skirmish into a coordinated demolition of whoever was stupid enough to stand in our way.

But our odds were still stacked up against us! The longer we waited, the more Siao reinforcements would pour in from the street, and the dining station was starting to feel less like a fortress and more like a coffin. I glanced at the door, my lungs burning from the exertion, and saw the flicker of shadows passing by the frosted glass. They weren't just rushing us blindly anymore; they were circling, cutting off the exits to the kitchen and the alley, tightening the noose around the Master’s sanctuary.

"Gahd dammit! Where the hell is Asi?!?!"

"We can't hold out much longer!"

I just saw Zhang get hurt badly, rendering him immobilised in a corner. I didn't even have time to process the sight of the blood before three Siao thugs descended on him like vultures. I stepped in front of him, my feet planting firmly into the linoleum, transforming my body into a human shield. I wasn't just fighting for a position anymore; I was defending Zhang, and that meant anyone who wanted a piece of him had to go through me first.

"Brother, just hang in there!" I roared, my voice cracking as I caught a heavy kick to my ribs.

I swung blindly, my fist connecting with something soft—a nose, maybe—but the Siao thugs were relentless, their numbers swelling as they pushed us deeper into the cramped service area. Just as a blade grazed the skin of my shoulder, the heavy double doors at the end of the hall didn't just open; they exploded outward. The sound was a deafening crash of wood and aluminum, and there, framed by the sudden flood of neon streetlights, stood Chong Yibo!

He wasn't alone. He was breathless, his expensive dress shirt torn at the shoulder, and his eyes were wide with a mixture of panic and absolute rage.

"GET THEM!" 

I thought, shit! I didn't think the boy had it in him! He was a lover boy who preferred hunting chicks than hunting thugs, but the look in his eyes now was pure, uncut aggression. Yibo didn't just enter the room; he stormed it, his momentum carrying him into the first Siao thug with a shoulder-check that sounded like a car crash. He didn't stop there, catching the man's head in a brutal grip and slamming it into the stainless steel counter with a sickening, wet crunch.

Then right next to him was our boy, Hao Mingsi himself, already duking it out with a Siao guard. He looked like he’d just come from a date—hair still slicked back and smelling of cologne—but he was fighting like a demon. He caught a mercenary in a textbook armbar, the snap of the man's elbow echoing through the dining station like a dry twig breaking.

"Asi! It's about time you got here!" I yelled, though the words were half-smothered by a gasp as a Siao blade sliced through the air where my throat had been a second before.

"Hyung, what happened?!?! What's going on?!?!" He roared back, his voice a raw edge of panic as he drove his fist into a mercenary's solar plexus.

"Just keep fighting! Hold them off while I tend to Zhang!" I barked out.

I make my way towards my buddy. I thought, Fuck! He's just been shot! I could see the dark, wet stain spreading across his side, a jagged hole where a Siao bullet had found its mark. His face was ghostly pale, his chest heaving in short, ragged gasps that sounded like a dying engine. 

I didn't have a medical kit, so I ripped a strip of fabric from a nearby tablecloth and jammed it hard against the wound to stem the flow. Zhang let out a strangled groan, his eyes rolling back, and for a second, I thought he was going to slip away right there on the linoleum.

"Shit! It's bad..."

"No! No! You've been through worse! You'll be alright!" I uttered back, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth.

I pressed my weight into the wound, the fabric of the tablecloth soaking through almost instantly. Zhang’s hand gripped my wrist, his fingers trembling, his eyes searching mine for a reassurance I couldn't honestly give. Around us, the dining station had become a slaughterhouse. The clash of steel and the guttural screams of dying men drowned out the distant sound of sirens, creating a private hell of shattered porcelain and spilled blood.

"Is he alright?!?!"

"Just keep fighting! Clear the way out!!!" I screamed back at Asi, my voice cracking over the sound of a nearby table flipping over.

I didn't look up to see if he had heard me; I couldn't. My entire world had shrunk to the size of Zhang’s pale face and the hot, rhythmic pulsing of blood soaking through my fingers.

"Brother... How bad is it?"

"You've been through worse! You could definitely walk to the van!" I lied, my voice shaking as I felt the warm, sticky pulse of his artery against my palm.

Zhang gave a weak, hacking laugh that turned into a wet cough, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He tried to grip my arm, but his strength was fading fast, his fingers sliding uselessly against my sleeve. The noise around us was a symphony of chaos—the rhythmic *thud-crack* of bone hitting bone and the desperate screams of the Siao mercs—but for a moment, the only thing that mattered was the slowing rhythm of the man's heart beneath my hands.

"We've driven them back!" Yibo shouted.

"Good! Now clear a path for the van!" The Master ordered as headed towards our direction.

"Come on, quick! Can you walk?!?!" He asked Zhang who was barely conscious.

"Y-Yeah... I just need a hand..." He wheezed, his voice sounding like gravel being crushed in a blender.

He stood up and the Master and I quickly hoisted him between us, his weight dead and heavy. Every step he took sent a fresh surge of blood soaking through the makeshift bandage, leaving a jagged trail across the white linoleum like a map of our failure. We moved in a frantic, stumbling formation toward the rear exit, the air still ringing with the echoes of the massacre. 

Yibo and Asi took point while a couple of San boys acted as the rear guard, their faces masks of adrenaline and horror, swinging wildly at any Siao remnant that tried to close the gap.

"Quick! Get him on the back!" The Master barked, his voice cutting through the static of the chaos.

We managed to get him inside where we followed suit and Yibo ordered one of his boys to take the wheel. It didn't take long for the engine to roar and the driver floored it on the accelerator.

"Master Wong! Where do we go?!?" Yibo asked.

"To Daebu-do!"

"Daebu-do?!?! Are you sure they haven't-"

"WE DON'T HAVE A CHOICE!!! IT'S THE ONLY PLACE THE SIAO HAVEN'T MAPPED OUT YET!" The Master roared, his voice shaking the interior of the cramped van.

"Driver! There's a medkit on the compartment! Pass it to us!" The master barked in the midst of all the madness.

Yibo's driver managed to pass to us a ready-to-use trauma kit, but the interior of the van felt like a pressure cooker. The smell of burnt rubber and stale cigarettes mixed with the metallic tang of Zhang's blood, which was now pooling on the floor mats. I ripped open the kit with my teeth, my hands shaking as I shoved gauze into the wound. 

Zhang didn't scream; he just made this low, clicking sound in the back of his throat, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the van as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Hang in there! Hang in there! You'll make it!" The Master shouted, his hands moving with clinical precision as he applied a tourniquet high on Zhang’s thigh.

"Oh shit! Fuck!" Yibo suddenly shouted when I heard gunshots hitting our ride!

"Oh, Fuck! I should've known!" He added.

I looked out towards the back window only to find around 2 or 3 other cars tailing us, their headlights flashing like hungry eyes in the rearview mirror. The glass of the rear window shattered into a million crystalline fragments, a stray bullet whistling past my ear.

"Ah shit! Asi! Li! Yibo! Get them off us! You there! Keep driving!"

"Yes sir!!!" I heard the driver roar, the engine screaming as he pushed the van to its absolute limit, the chassis rattling violently over the uneven Incheon asphalt.

With the limited guns that we had, the Master gave me his revolver as I joined Asi and Yibo on the back in firing back against our adversaries. I thought, Shit! This is the kind of shit I used to see in the movies, the kind Zhang Lipeng and I watched in our spare time!

It was like a scene out of my son's video game! The kind where the main character was shooting bad guys chasing him! Except this was real life! Zhang’s life was on the line! His own son and family are waiting for him back up in Seoul, in the concrete jungles of the city! 

I leaned out the open window, the wind whipping my face into a distorted mask, and squeezed the trigger. The revolver kicked like a mule against my palm, the blast echoing in the cramped space. I saw a windshield shatter in the car closest to us, the driver swerving violently, but they didn't stop. They were like sharks, sensing the blood in the water, refusing to let us slip away into the dark.

"Got him!" Asi yelled, cheering like he just got a perfect shot at a carnival shooting range.

"YEAHHHHH!!! EAT SHIT!!!" Yibo cheered as well as he took out another car, killing its driver and making him crash on one of his own guys. But there were still too many.

"WE CAN'T HOLD THEM OFF!!!"

"WHAT DO WE DO?!?!"

Asi and I exchanged a frantic look as the third car surged forward, ramming into our rear bumper with a jarring metallic shriek. The impact sent the van fishtailing across the rain-slicked road, sending Zhang sliding across the floorboards with a guttural groan. My fingers were numb from the recoil of the revolver, and the cylinder was nearly empty. 

Through the shattered glass of the rear window, I could see the Siao gunmen leaning out of their windows, their faces cold and mechanical, firing in disciplined bursts that chewed through the van's chassis.

"Yibo! Do you have any ideas?!?!" Master Wong screamed, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the wind and the rhythmic *pop-pop-pop* of gunfire.

I could tell the young master did have a plan. But the look on his face told me that he didn't like it. The sense of despair coming from his knowing he was about to make a big order of sorts.

"I do..." He said, before taking out a walkie-talkie.

"Tiequan! Ximen! Make a diversion! Don't let them follow us to Ansan!" He bellowed into the device, his voice strained by the wind.

"Yes, Master Chong." The voice in the walkie-talkie was a low, distorted rasp that crackled with static.

Yibo then rushed forward towards the driver's back side, his eyes looking out towards the front ready to give whatever orders he had in mind.

"You! Take us to that alley then kill the engine! Let Ximen and Tiequan pass." He commanded the driver, his voice dropping into a cold, strategic register.

The driver does what he says and before I knew it, we were in an alleyway that smelled of rotting fish. He slammed the brakes, killed the engine, and plunged us into a sudden, ringing silence. For a few seconds, the only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine and the ragged, wet breathing coming from Zhang’s chest. We sat in the dark, holding our breath, our hearts hammering against our ribs like trapped birds.

"Yibo... What's the plan here?" The Master couldn't help but ask.

"Lure the Siao off... We can't let them think we're heading towards the 301... If Ximen and Tiequan lure further inland, then we should be good heading to the island..." The Young Master explained.

For a moment right there, I really thought the successor of Master Chong Chi-Tan had just arrived! So far, he had shown bravery and courage in the midst of what had just happened. His uncle was just shot, his dead body still there on his seat back in the restaurant, and yet Yibo was thinking three steps ahead. 

He was thinking of the long game. But the silence of the alleyway was too heavy, too artificial. It felt like a stage being set for something terrible, and we were all just actors waiting for our cue.

"Shh! Here they come!" He whispered suddenly.

We looked out and saw 2 black vans that looked like us making a run for it straight towards Siheung. And what followed them was like an army of sedans and SUVs, tires screaming on the asphalt as they tore through the intersection. The Siao didn't even glance toward our dark alley; they were too focused on the bait, their headlights disappearing into the distance like fading stars. For a heartbeat, we breathed. We actually thought we’d slipped the noose.

Meanwhile, Yibo looked at them like they were sacrificial lambs to the slaughter. I thought, Damn! Those guys were gonna get ripped apart.

"Gods help them... Now drive... Act natural..." He said.

And with that, the driver eased the van out of the shadows, merging back into the sparse midnight traffic with a cautious, rhythmic crawl. We didn't dare speed; the goal now was to blend into the background, to become just another delivery vehicle navigating the skeletal remains of the industrial district. Inside the van, the atmosphere shifted from explosive panic to a suffocating, heavy dread. The adrenaline that had fueled our fight in the restaurant was evaporating, leaving behind a cold, hollow void.

I looked out to finally see the coast! The 301 highway was the fastest route to Daebu-Do, a long coastal road connecting the mainland and the island through islets in a land bridge that looked like a concrete snake winding through the dark. The salt air began to seep through the shattered window, mixing with the metallic scent of Zhang’s blood and the smell of ozone from the spent shells. Beside me, Yibo was staring at the floorboards, his face devoid of the triumphant grin from the firefight. He looked older, the weight of the "long game" settling onto his shoulders like a lead cloak.

Meanwhile, Asi looked like he was about to vomit. He was staring at the gauze on Zhang’s side, which had turned a deep, bruised purple and was leaking a steady, rhythmic stream of crimson. The silence in the van was no longer a sanctuary; it was a countdown. Zhang’s breathing had changed, shifting from ragged gasps to a shallow, rattling sound—the "death rattle" that every veteran of the streets recognizes as the sound of a man losing his grip on the world. I reached out and squeezed Zhang's hand, his skin feeling clammy and cold, and for the first time in ten years, I felt a spike of genuine terror.

"Shit! Driver! Are we there yet?!?"

"We're on the island, Master Wong! Which way do we go?!?"

"To the right! There's a temple! They'll let you through!" The Master barked, his voice strained.

The driver yanked the wheel, sending the van sliding sideways into a gravel turnout. We hadn't even fully stopped before the doors flew open, the humid salt air of Daebu-do rushing in to meet us. The temple sat perched on a limestone cliff, its vermilion pillars fading into the gloom, looking less like a place of worship and more like a fortress of solitude.

"Brother..." The Master uttered, greeting a man who appeared to be an old monk.

I've never seen the man before. He looked old, almost the same age as Master Wong himself. They exchanged some sort of pleasantries that I could barely understand, which was Cantonese.

"I thought, you'd never come back, Chausang..."

"I know, brother! But please! The boy's dying..." He pleaded, begged specifically.

It was the first time I saw the Master beg. The man who could shatter a ribcage with a flick of his wrist was suddenly small, his voice trembling as he gestured toward the blood-soaked floor of the van. When the monk finally saw the true scale of our desperation, he was quick to tell his followers to clear the inner sanctum.

The transition from the van to the temple was a frantic blur of sliding feet and panicked breaths. We carried Zhang like a piece of broken furniture, our footsteps echoing against the stone tiles in a rhythmic, desperate thud. I felt a surge of raw, blind panic as Zhang’s head rolled to the side, his eyes fluttering, trying to find me in the dim light of the incense-filled hall.

"Stay with me, fool! Don't you dare close those eyes!" I screamed, my voice bouncing off the high cedar ceilings, sounding more like a plea than a command.

"Ahh..." The Master suddenly came to a stop.

Asi and I turned around in horror only to find him holding his abdomen, his face twisted in a sudden, sharp spasm of pain. He didn't scream; he just let out a soft, wet huff of air, and a dark, blooming circle began to spread across the front of his white silk shirt. In the chaos of the van, in the frenzy of the firefight and the frantic hauling of Zhang, none of us had noticed the revolver wound in his side.

"You're hurt!"

"Master! Let us-"

"No! Look after Zhang! Lianjie and I can handle this!" He insisted! Cutting us off when we were about to aid him.

"Don't be reckless, my friend! Quick! Help him!" The monk called out to his servants.

They were quick to assist the master in a separate bed not far from where we were laying Zhang. For a moment, I could see from the other side the Master was stable whereas Zhang was literally clinging on for life! The servants around us were quickly and desperately trying their best to stop the blood from leaking out of Zhang’s stomach. 

He looked like a broken doll, his skin turning a shade of gray that didn't belong to a living man, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring at the ornate temple ceiling as if he were seeing a doorway only he could perceive.

"There's morphine upstairs! Quick get them for us!" Asi and Yibo headed up the stairs in a frantic blur, their footsteps echoing like hammer strikes against the temple's silence.

I stayed behind, my hands pressed hard against Zhang’s abdomen, feeling the heat of his internals leaking through my fingers. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, clicking sound, a desperate struggle for air that sounded like someone trying to breathe through a mouthful of pebbles. His eyes, once sharp and mocking, had become cloudy, drifting aimlessly toward the gilded carvings of the ceiling as the light in them began to flicker.

"Ahyounga... F-Forgive me..." I heard him say suddenly.

That was the name of his own daughter! The girl my son also had a crush on. We used to make fun of ourselves having our kids marry each other in the distant future. But Zhang Lipeng was literally on the verge of death!!!

"Brother... P-Promise me..." He murmured.

"Promise me you won't leave them... Tell Anna that I-... I..."

And that's when I felt his hand loosen. His arm went limp and I felt my world come crashing down when I saw his arm fall down the makeshift bed with a dull thud. His eyes stayed open, but the light in them didn't just fade; it extinguished, leaving behind two hollow glass marbles staring at nothing. The silence that followed was deafening, a vacuum that sucked the air right out of the room. I didn't scream. I couldn't. My lungs felt like they had been filled with wet concrete, and the only sound was the rhythmic, sickening drip of blood hitting the temple floor.

"Li hyung! We have the-"

I heard Yibo and Asi arrive back only to find them freezing in their tracks. Asi was still holding the morphine, his face twisted in a hopeful grin that died the second he looked at Zhang’s slack jaw. He let the vials slip from his fingers, and they shattered against the stone floor with a series of sharp, crystalline pops. 

Chong Yibo was just as still, his eyes darting from Zhang’s grey skin to my blood-stained hands. The silence in the temple became a physical weight, pressing down on us until the air felt thick and suffocating.

I felt my legs give out on me. I was on my knees staring down at the man who had been my shadow for a decade, and the sudden emptiness of the room felt like a physical blow to the solar plexus. The grief didn't come as a wave; it came as a cold, dead weight in my stomach, making me feel sick. I reached out and closed his eyelids with a trembling finger, the skin already losing its heat. I didn't look at the boys. I couldn't bear to see the pity in Yibo’s eyes or the shock on Asi’s face.

All I could do was let the volume in my chest go up and scream...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Notes: I’m looking at this series and I’m like, Damn, is this really coming to an end?

I already know how it’s going to end, but seriously, I didn’t think I’d make it this far to ending a series as a whole! 

But other than that. I hope you all are still there to the very end of Asi’s fate.

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When I was there, 75 years ago in '51, I fell in love with one of the Korean nurses. Minju was her name. Park Minju, that name never forgot me even after I married your grandma for 70 years. Everyday and every night as you and your father got older, the girl Park Minju never left my memory.

Gosh, if Baby Villareal was Korean, her name would've been Park Minju! I fell in love with that girl the moment I laid my eyes upon her. I didn't speak any Korean and she could barely speak some English, thanks to that small dictionary of hers that she used for nursing school.

I could never tell you how many times I've had Captain Yap slap me on the back of my head for daydreaming while on duty. Hell! I even thought about getting hurt on purpose just to be with her, to talk to her while she tended to my "battle scars", scars that I basically invented.

She had this way of tilting her head and frowning at me—a look that said *you're a complete idiot*—but her eyes were as sweet as your grandmother's honey cakes.

But speaking about battle scars, I'm pretty sure you already know  that I got all of them in Yultong. Our family already knew about my ordeal there.

Oh, those poor souls, those brave men, Captain Yap, I still can't believe he sacrificed his life for me! Maybe when I'm gone, I'll meet him in heaven and I'll finally thank him face to face. You, all of you, already know of my survival and Captain Yap's sacrifice.

But what you did not know was how Park Minju tended to me when I thought I was at the hour of death!

I barely made it out alive, I was taken to a stretcher with a twisted ankle and a bullet on my shoulder, but that wasn't what had me shaking. It was the cold. The kind of cold that turns your breath into shards of glass and makes your blood feel like sludge. It was nothing like Baguio! No, it was so much worse!

God, I was so scared of sleeping in those days! I was so terrified that if I closed my eyes, I would've never woken up! I... I couldn't bear thinking I was gonna leave mama and papa behind so soon! I was around your age at that time, around 20 or 21.

Park Minju and I were around the same age as well, but she had a strength that didn't come from muscle. She would walk between the rows of stretchers, her small hands smelling of carbolic acid and cheap soap, checking bandages with a precision that felt like a prayer.

But then, one night, Oh god, I hope I don't make you feel embarrassed by the time you read this.

One night, she came into my 'cubicle', a small space for myself really only separated with curtains. I was on the far corner, one of the last few patients far from the entrance.

I remembered seeing her so pale and so exhausted. The sheer number of deaths and wounded from the battle took a toll on her. I knew she was there to check up on me as part of her routine. But instead of heading out for the next patient, she chose to stay behind in my cubicle to have her break.

She had a couple pieces of home made kimbap and a bottle of water for us to share. We sat there in a heavy, suffocating silence, but for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel that bone-deep chill. She didn't say a word—she didn't have to. She just leaned her shoulder against mine, her small frame shivering under that oversized nursing coat, and let out a sigh that sounded like a prayer for everyone who didn't make it.

With the limited Korean and English we had, I managed to get to talk to her, far longer than I could've imagined. She told me a bit about her little village, the one with the pear blossoms that smelled like heaven and the way her mother would scold her for staying up too late reading.

I remember leaning in close, smelling that scent of carbolic acid mixed with something sweet—maybe jasmine, maybe just the hope of something more. And that's when I remembered asking about our first loves.

I told her about having a bad break-up with my girlfriend at that time, your old grade school Math teacher Mrs. Estrada and she told me her husband was gunned down in the early stages of the war. She had been grieving about it ever since. We were two broken things leaning on each other in a room full of dying men, finding some weird kind of comfort in our shared misery.

I reached out and touched her hand. I thought she was going to pull away. But instead, she squeezed my fingers back, her skin feeling warm and soft against my rough, calloused palm.

I met her eyes once more and the sight of her face, oh so close and so precious, made my heart go race! She gave me this tiny, shy little smile—the kind that makes you feel like the only person in the whole wide world.

I kissed her...

I kissed her and I thought, Oh no... What have I done? I shouldn't have! Not without her consent!

But instead of slapping me or running for the head nurse, the girl kissed me back! I could still remember to this day how her lips felt like soft little marshmallows, and suddenly the whole world just vanished, leaving only the two of us in that tiny, curtained-off space.

I laid us down where she settled on my side, her body avoiding my injuries. Yet, I couldn’t care less about the pain, not when Park Minju's lips were treating me better than any dose of aspirin! My hands were fondling and touching her body in places that shouldn’t have been touched!

My hands were all over her thin frame, sliding beneath her nursing coat to find the heat of her skin. I remember the sound of the heavy canvas curtain snapping shut, sealing us away from the groans of the dying and the sterile smell of the ward. She pressed me gently on my back into the thin army cot, the metal frame creaking under our combined weight, and I groaned when my shoulder flared with pain.

But the pain was nothing compared to the electric shock of her bum sitting on my groin. God, I could never forget how her ass filled my crotch! She wasn’t as big as your grandmother's, but fuck, the feel of it all, the small soft flesh of her buttcheeks squeezing my hardness through the thin fabric of my army trousers, made my head spin. I reached up, my fingers digging into the meat of her hips, pulling her closer until there wasn't a single inch of air left between us.

I kissed her like a madman that night. Even when I made love to your grandmother, the ghost of Minju's lips never left my body. Her mouth was so small yet so perfect, like she may have been meant for me. We didn't have a bed or any luxury; just that narrow cot and the constant threat of a patrol officer walking by. Every time the curtain flickered, we froze, our breath hitching in sync, making the actual act of touching feel like we were stealing gold from the gods.

But nothing was gonna stop us from our act that night. There was a moment when I felt her lips kissing down on me, trailing down my chest, my stomach all the way to my cock. I thought, damn her face looks so small! So small you'd think my length would be too much for her. I felt her small, cold hands reach for the drawstring of my trousers, pulling them down with a desperate speed that told me she wanted this just as bad as I did.

And when she finally touched me, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, I nearly jumped off that cot! She didn’t know the English word for "hard," but the way she gripped me, sliding her small palm up and down the length of it, told me everything. I let out a ragged moan that sounded more like a plea, my hips arching instinctively toward her. She looked up at me with those wide, dark eyes, her breath hitching as she felt me pulse against her skin.

And when she took me into her maw, I thought, Shit! I thought I just got out of a bombing run! Her mouth was so warm, like a little oven, and her tongue felt like a tiny, velvet ribbon wrapping around me. I watched her, this small, delicate creature, looking up at me with those wide eyes while she worked her magic.

She was so focused, her little cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on me, making these tiny *slurp* noises that sounded like the cutest little kitten drinking milk. It was just so... cute! I wanted to scream from the joy of it!

I was scared for a moment that I might hurt her. I tried telling her not to push herself. Yet every word that came out of my mouth only spurred her on to go further, her nostrils tapping my groin and her throat taking my tip.

My hands just held her head like she was some kind of fragile porcelain doll, my fingers tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of her neck. She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of innocence and a hunger that didn't match her petite size. The way she looked at me—like I was the only man left on earth—made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with my wounds.

I thought, Jeez! The sight of her face with my dick deep down inside was like a ghost that was going to haunt me until the end of my days!

She pulled out of me suddenly. And before I could utter a groan, she keeps me on my back, saying something along the lines of *You're hurt* and *must stay still*. I could barely move a muscle when she slowly got on top of me once more.

My eyes stayed glued to hers, yet I had an idea of what she was doing underneath her skirt! She lifted it slightly up just enough for me to see her discarding her underwear. I trembled when I felt the slick heat of what I thought was her womanhood, raw, hairless and dripping, as she slowly lowered her small hips.

And when she lowered herself down, sitting on my cock inside her clit, I thought, God! What did I do to deserve this? Her snatch was like a tight glove, gripping me so hard it felt like she was trying to pull my very soul out through my dick. She let out a sharp, jagged gasp, her head tilting back, her small hands clutching my chest for balance. I felt the wetness of her—thick and hot—slicking my skin as she began to move, a slow, rhythmic grind that turned my insides into liquid.

I thought, Fuck! I could never tell your grandmother how sorry I was for still thinking about Minju everytime we made love. Even when she told me that she loved me, even when I told her that I loved her back, the memory of Park Minju and her body never left my mind, like a fever that would never break.

Every grind and every slight bounce that she did on top of me felt like a secret we were stealing from the war. She was so tiny, Thirdy, but she had this fierce way of clinging to me, her small fingers digging into my shoulders as if she were afraid I’d vanish if she let go for even a second. I still remember the sound of her breath—much more than your own grandmother's.

She felt exactly as I thought she would've felt if I was deep down inside! I tried thrusting up yet her hands kept slapping me lightly, her broken English telling me to stay still, that I was too hurt to move. I had to just lie there like a piece of driftwood in a storm, feeling her small, soft body ride me with a rhythmic intensity that made my toes curl.

The least I could do was lock my hands on her waist and guide her rhythm, my thumbs digging into the soft dip of her lower back. Each time she descended, the friction of her tight, soaking walls felt like she was squeezing the breath right out of my lungs. She started to make these little whimpering sounds, a high-pitched, desperate humming in the back of her throat that told me she was right on the edge.

Her movements became frantic, a blurred succession of wet slaps and gasps that echoed in the small, curtained space, turning the sterile air into something thick and musk-scented.

I felt myself coming close as well! I was desperately trying to tell her that I was close! So close that I might spill inside her. Yet my plea came through deaf ears, either she didn't hear my whispers or she didn't understand my English! She just kept nodding and kept saying 'Ne!' 'Ne!' which I thought was her way of telling me that she liked what was happening.

And when she slammed on me one last time, I felt myself blow! I don't know how many orgasms I've had when I made love with your grandmother later on. But that one orgasm I had that night, the one I had with Nurse Minju, felt like an explosion in a munitions depot. I could still remember the heat of my seed filling her up, a thick, pulsing wave that left me shaking from my head to my toes. She let out a long, shivering moan, her body collapsing against my chest, her small heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.

I don't know how long we were stuck in there, her thin, panting and exhausted body heaving on top of my frame whilst my dick kept spilling deep inside her! I thought, Shit! I was filling this girl up! I was cumming deep down inside her, so deep you'd think I was flooding her womb, breeding and knocking her up!

I thought, Oh god! I should be stopping right now! Yet I was too frail and too limp to even move! Every last drop of me was pouring into her, a desperate, messy release that felt less like sex and more like a confession. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the smell of sweat and sex mingling with the sterile scent of the ward, our breathing slowly syncing back to the rhythm of the living. She didn't pull away immediately; she kept her forehead pressed against me, her dark eyes searching mine for something I couldn't name.

I remembered kissing her one last time. I don't know which one of us did it first. But that one kiss post orgasm was the last time I felt her lips with me. It felt like an eternity when we made out that night. And when I felt her lips slowly detach, it felt like the war suddenly came back to me.

The dark night, cold, the suffering, the pain, and all the misery, all came crashing back down on me, Nurse Minju reluctantly standing up as fixed herself in a haste and put her panties back up.

Her hair was still disheveled, but God, Park Minju was still the most precious thing I’d ever seen. She checked on me one last time, like she just switched from a cute girl to a veteran nurse in an instant, like she did not just have sex with her patient! She put a warm towel on my head and told me something that I couldn't comprehend.

I interpreted it as something along the lines of "I'll see you later..." or "Get well soon..." I nodded in response. I tried telling her that I loved her. I kept saying I love you or Mahal Kita just to spill out my feelings but her face continued to stay confused!

I tried saying I love you in Korean! I knew it was there at the back of my mind! But my lips had to malfunction at that moment of all moments. I just ended up making some sort of gargling sound, like a fish out of water, and she just tilted her head and gave me that little *you're-an-idiot* frown again. 

Shit… The girl probably thought I was having another seizure from my injuries, the poor thing! She just patted my cheek with her small, soft hand—which was still a little sticky from our mess—and whispered something that sounded like "Babo."

Don't ask me when I found out that it actually meant "Idiot". But after that, she took her leave, her eyes meeting mine for the last time before she headed out into the darkness, the shape of her shadow gliding through the curtains before vanishing altogether.

To be honest with you, Thirdy. That was actually the first time in the war that I actually slept properly. I slept all night thinking about her and about what just happened. The scenes just kept playing and replaying in my dreams.

I slept that night thinking that I was going to spend the rest of my life with that girl. Once I healed up and that war would be over, I was going to take Minju down here to Davao.

But when I woke up, I was shocked to find myself on a flying relief plane heading back down to Clark! I already told us about me being sent back. But I did not tell you the part where I was thrashing out like a madman!

I kept asking why am I being sent home?!? Why was I not informed?!?! And most importantly, where was Minju?!?! I didn't even get to say goodbye to her!!!

The doctors said I had an infection during my sleep, the kind that needed an operation. The safest way to do that was a treatment at Clark, far far away from the battlefield. I cooperated naman din sa operation. But when I asked the high command to send me back, they refused, President Quirino's signature was on the order. I was officially a discharged soldier. I spent three days in a hospital bed in Pampanga, staring at the white ceiling and feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my chest by a bayonet.

For 3 months, I was barely getting by working odd jobs around Pampanga in a bid to get back to Korea! Hell! I even thought about sneaking into the base and smuggling myself into one of the supply boxes!

But somewhere along the way, I met your grandmother and my path slowly went down to Davao with her. And the rest was history.

That was my ordeal in Korea, Thirdy. To this day, your mother and father, your grandmother and your uncles never knew about this, about her. You're the very first in the family to know.

And if you have time, do you think you can inquire about her whereabouts? I never knew if she made it out of the war. Is she still alive? Did she grow old with someone else? During my spare time, I wrote letters to my former colleagues, to the Philippine embassy, the Korean Army HQ and the Yultong memorial staff on any information regarding Nurse Park Minju.

I received almost nothing for 70 years, only congratulatory messages about my past service, but nothing on Nurse Minju like she never existed at all!

I know it sounds futile. I never even had a picture of her. But please, as a final request, find her for me. Let me know what became of my first love.

Yours truly, Lolo Feelip

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"How long until the concert?” You exhaled, voice thick with something that wasn’t quite guilty but tasted like it.

Your fingers dug into the edge of the sink, knuckles white. Your wedding band caught the light—a stupid, glaring detail she refused to acknowledge. Ruka traced your snake tattoo with her tongue, salt and chlorine from the hotel pool still clinging to your skin.

"Three days," she lied, knowing full well it was five.

“How about you? Last night was your last stop before heading back up to Hokkaido, isn’t that right?” She bit your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks, and you cursed through gritted teeth—the sound dissolving into a groan when she rolled her hips against your thigh.

The bathroom mirror fogged completely now, your reflections smudged into obscurity.

“Yeah,” You lied right back, your breath hitching as her teeth found your earlobe.

The truth was, your wife had texted you an hour ago—something about picking up your daughter from ballet, something painfully domestic—but your phone was face-down somewhere on the hotel room’s floor, screen cracked from where Ruka had kicked it off earlier. You could feel her nails rake down your stomach, sharp enough to sting, and he arched into it like a man starving.

“Two years of marriage and you’re still desperate for me… I thought your bachelor’s night was our last one…” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your towel, letting it drop to the floor with a wet slap.

The air between you smelled of expensive shampoo and stolen time. Her knee pressed between your thighs, and your hips jerked forward—too eager, too predictable—before you caught yourself with a sharp inhale.

“You’re always worth the risk,” You growled, gripping her waist hard enough to bruise, your thumbs pressing into the dip above her hips where he knew she liked it rough.

Ruka laughed—sharp, breathless—as you spun her around and pinned her against the fogged-up mirror, the cold glass searing against her bare skin. She arched back into him, her ass grinding against the hard line of your cock.

"You say that," she gasped, "but your hands are still shaking."

Your fingers tightened, digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as you lifted her effortlessly against the mirror. The condensation streaked between you, hot skin meeting cold glass in a way that made her shudder—not from the temperature, but from the way your cock dragged against her, slick with pre-cum and the remnants of her own wetness.

"Still getting wet so easily huh?” You murmured against her neck, dragging your teeth along her pulse point.

She gasped when your fingers slid between her thighs, finding her already soaked—proof of how long she’d been thinking about you since boarding the plane. You groaned at the sensation, pressing two fingers inside her without warning, your palm grinding against her clit in rough circles.

“Fuck, you’re still so fucking tight.” Your voice was ragged, your breath hot against her ear as your fingers worked her deeper, curling just right to make her legs tremble.

Ruka bit down on her own wrist to stifle a moan, but the sound still escaped anyway—high and desperate—as you added a third finger, stretching her with a brutal, practiced precision that had her toes curling against the tile.

“Louder,” he demanded, thrusting your fingers harder, faster, until the wet slap of skin filled the steamy bathroom.

“Let me hear how much you missed this.” Your free hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back against your shoulder as your fingers pistoned into her, relentless.

Ruka’s thighs shook, her back arching off the mirror as pleasure coiled tight in her gut—too fast, too much—but she couldn’t stop the broken whimper that tore from her throat. your laugh was dark, satisfied, as he withdrew your fingers abruptly, leaving her clenching around nothing.

“Not yet,” You murmured, spinning her around to face you, her slick thighs sliding against yours as you crushed your mouths together.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue. Ruka tasted the champagne you’ve been drinking earlier—something cheap—mixed with the bitter tang of her own arousal on your lips. You palmed her ass with both hands, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around your waist, her back slamming against the bathroom door with a thud that rattled the frame. Your cock pressed against her, hot and insistent, and she rolled her hips just to hear him swear under your breath.

“Still such a fucking tease,” You growled, biting her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade for days.

You didn’t bother fumbling for the extra condom on the sink—you’d stopped pretending to care about that months ago—just lined yourself up and pushed in with one brutal thrust that punched the air from her lungs. She dug her nails into your shoulders, her head tipping back against the door as you filled her completely, the stretch bordering on painful in the best possible way.

“Oh god! Y-Yes!!!” She cried out as you bottomed out inside her, her body shuddering violently around your dick.

The sheer heat of her cunt clenched around you like a vice, drawing a ragged groan from your chest. You pinned her harder against the door, one hand fisting in her hair while the other gripped her ass, fingers digging into flesh as you pulled her down with every thrust. Her legs locked around your waist, heels digging into the small of your back, urging you deeper—harder—until the door rattled with every snap of your hips.

She wasn’t quiet anymore, her moans sharp and unfiltered as you fucked her with a desperation that was close to violent. Your breath came in harsh bursts against her neck, your teeth marking her skin in possessive bites as if you could erase the memory of your wife with each bruise. 

“Fucking take it, Ruka… Take it! Take it!” You growled against her neck, your hips slamming into her with bruising force as your cock pulsed deep inside her.

Hot ropes spilled into her, flooding her cunt in thick, spasming bursts that had her gasping against your shoulder—her own climax ripped from her at the sensation, her body clamping down around you in desperate, fluttering waves. You groaned through clenched teeth, your grip on her thighs tightening as he milked every last drop into her, your forehead pressed against the bathroom door as you both shuddered through the aftershocks.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant hum of Tokyo’s nightlife beyond the hotel windows. Her legs slid from your waist, her bare feet hitting the tiles with unsteady grace, her thighs still slick with you. You pulled out with a wet sound that made her stomach clench, your cum already trickling down her inner thigh—proof, again, that you’d long stopped pretending this was anything but raw, reckless possession.

“Thank you, handsome… Now it’s time I head back to my girls…”

Notes: Idk why, but I'm down for some more BaeMon. Maybe Rita can get it next...

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She was a refugee fleeing the war, too young to remember how she ended up in Tokyo, at the Hamura brothel of all places, my regular stop.

I thought, Fuck! I couldn’t get enough of this girl! Her Japanese might be broken. But every minute with her was every penny worth spent! And now, with the war ending, I wondered if she'd want to go back.

“Daddy…”

I looked up to find her eyes staring back at me, half-lidded and sleepy, her dark hair tangled against the pillow. She stretched with a kitten-like yawn, the sheet slipping further down her waist—no shame in her nakedness, not anymore.

"Anything interesting on the news?" she asked, her accent thick as honey as she got up.

“You might want to look at this…” I gestured to her.

Ahyeon shuffled forward, wrapping the sheet around herself loosely—not out of modesty, but because the morning sun was still cool. She peered over my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, then froze. Her fingers dug into my arm lightly as she read the headline. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin, rapid like a sparrow’s.

“So is it over?” She whispered the words, like she was afraid the paper might bite her if she spoke too loud. The sheet slipped further as she leaned in, those big ass titties of hers pressing against my shoulder.

“I have no idea. It says it’s an armistice. A stalemate.” I replied.

“I don’t know what kind of deal the Americans made with the Chinese… Or the Russians… Those words don’t sound like surrender…” I added.

The memory of the war was still with me, a hole in my hand courtesy of Doolittle himself! Yeah! That same Doolittle that led that raid in ‘42.

I was shot down sometime before the war ended, barely making it out of my Zero when I crash landed on the shore. I managed to recover from that and was ready to fly again. But on the day I was scheduled for another bombing run, the Americans dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, and the Emperor surrendered a few days later.

That announcement still struck me to this day, all of that—for nothing. The Emperor’s voice crackled over the radio, so unlike the god we were told he was. Just a man, surrendering. The message was clear. We were done.

But this new one, a war between ideologies that tore a nation apart, the message didn’t look promising. The communists were still around and so were the capitalists. I know where my country stands, but Ahyeon’s mere silence clouded my thoughts.

She was still there, her young yet big tits squishing my shoulder as she kept her gaze on the article, perhaps trying to read or understand every single word.

“Still thinking about going back?” I couldn’t help but wonder.

I felt the grip on my arm tighten suddenly—not painful, just present—as she exhaled against my neck.

“Daddy,” she murmured, “where would I go?” 

There was no bitterness, just the quiet resignation of a girl who’d known too much war too young. The sheet slid down further, pooling at her hips, but she didn’t bother pulling it back up.

“There’s nothing left for me, Daddy… I have nothing left…” She added, pressing her lips against my shoulder—not a kiss, just an anchor.

Her fingers traced the scar on my hand, the one from Doolittle’s bullet, as if she could read the war in its ridges. The sheet finally gave up, sliding to the floor with a whisper, leaving her bare against me.

Slowly, she struts her way towards my front, her naked frame, albeit the top part of it shining brightly under the morning sky, her legs simply wrapped in a lacy black panty that barely holds anything in. She leans in closer, her hand caressing my cheeks, as I stare back into her eyes—eyes that seemed to have seen war, yet still held innocence and tenderness.

"Daddy..." she murmurs, her lips curling into a playful smile.

"You take care of me better than any home ever could." Her fingers trace my jawline, lingering a little too long, like she’s memorizing the shape of me.

“You’re not saying that just to impress me, are you?” I couldn’t help but tease, knowing girls like her were opportunistic in the wrong ways.

Her grin widened as she straddled my lap, pressing her thighs against me. The smell of her—a mix of sleep and that cheap rose perfume she loved—filled the space between us.

“No, Daddy,” she purred, “you know I don’t lie. Not to you.” Her hips shifted, deliberate, and I grunted when she grounded against me, her panties already damp through the thin fabric.

The newspaper crinkled beneath my fingers, forgotten. The war—any war—felt distant when she moved like this, her breath hitching as she rolled her hips again, slow and teasing. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.

“F-Fuck… I can’t… Afford to keep spending on you… F-Forever, you know…” I warned her, or at least I tried to.

I'm barely getting by just to have her on my bed each week! Yet here she was—smirking, grinding down on my lap like she owned me, which in some way she did! Her fingers slid down my chest, nails dragging lightly over my chest before settling on my shorts.

"Do you really want me to leave?" She tilted her head, her thumb hooking into the waistband of my shorts, pulling just enough to make my breath catch.

"Would you stay if I told you I have nothing?" I countered back.

And that was when she stopped. I could see it already, the doubt of a refugee who knew the cost of belonging—how quickly a body could become currency. Her fingers stilled against my shorts, her smirk softening into something fragile.

“I don’t need money to stay,” she said quietly, her hips still pressed flush against mine.

“I just need you.” The words were too raw, too honest for a girl who was taught to charge by the hour.

"I feel safe when I'm with you... I eat a lot more when I'm with you... I sleep better when I'm with you..." Ahyeon whispered, her voice cracking as she pressed her forehead against mine.

"You're more than a client to me, Daddy... When I'm with you, I'm given hope that there are still good people out there..."

When she said that, I thought a part of me died. Once upon a time I flew around her country's skies while my colleagues committed crimes against her people—yet here she was clinging to me like I was the only good thing left in this rotten world. My fingers tightened around her waist, pressing into soft skin as she exhaled against my lips, warm and sweet like stolen candy.

Ahyeon laughed suddenly—a small, broken sound—as she dragged her fingers through my stubble. "You look like you're about to cry," she teased, but her eyes were wet too.

"I-I mean... It's just that I-... I have never received that kind of compliment before..." I explained.

My life was the war, and all the lives I took in the name of our empire. But to hear her say that—like I was something worth keeping-made my chest ache. The morning sun caught the tears clinging to her lashes, turning them into tiny prisms. I didn't deserve this. Not after the things I'd done. Not when she should've spat in my face instead of grinding against my lap like I was her salvation.

"Now tell me, Daddy... What am I to you?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing mine with each word.

The weight of her question hung between us—heavy, dangerous. I could lie, could call her my mistress, my toy, something disposable. But her fingers trembled against my chest, betraying how much she needed the truth.

"Everything..." I managed to choke out before her lips crashed into mine—soft but insistent, tasting of sleep and desperation.

Her hands clutched the front of my top like she was drowning, pulling me closer until the newspaper fell on the floor. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin—wild and erratic—as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with lust. The faint taste of morning tea lingered on her lips, mixing with the salt of tears neither of us would acknowledge.

Outside, Tokyo buzzed with the news of armistice, bicycles rattling over cobblestones and radios blaring from open windows. But in my cramped apartment, time slowed—her breath warm against my cheek, her thighs tightening around my hips as if she feared I might vanish. Wars had taught us both how fragile things could be.

She pulled back just enough to press her forehead against mine, her fingers tracing the scar on my jaw—the one from shrapnel in '43.

"Daddy," she whispered, voice trembling, "say it again." Her hips rocked forward insistently, not for pleasure this time, but proof. Proof that I meant it.

I caught her wrists, pressing her palms flat against my chest where she could feel the rapid thud beneath my ribs. "You're everything, Ahyeon..." I repeated, rough with sincerity.

She made a small sound—half-laugh, half-sob—and kissed me again, teeth scraping my lip.

I lifted us up before taking her back into my bed. The sheets smelled of her—sweet sweat and rose water—as I laid her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow like spilled ink. Her hands found my face again, thumbs brushing the stubble along my jaw, her touch softer than any silk.

"Daddy," she murmured, "I don’t care about going back anymore." The words hit harder than any bullet ever could.

Her fingers traced the old shrapnel scars on my chest—each one a story she never asked about, each one a ghost she chose to embrace instead of fear. For the first time in years, I felt something crack open inside me—something I thought the war had burned away for good.

“I don't have much,” I admitted, my voice rough against the crown of her head.

“This apartment, half-empty rice sacks, my fucking pension... that’s it.” My fingers tangled in her hair, gripping tighter than I intended, but she arched into it with a sigh.

Her thighs hitched over my hip, skin sticking to mine where sweat pooled between us.

"Daddy," she giggled—actually giggled—and pressed her nose into the hollow of my throat, "you still smell like engine oil."

Ok, that was rather unexpected... I hadn't flown in nearly a decade, but the scent must've seeped into my pores like betrayal. Her lips traveled up to my ear, teeth scraping the lobe. 

"I like it."

Outside, some random kid shouted something obscene at a stray cat—Tokyo's usual symphony. But here, with Ahyeon's legs locking around my waist, the city felt muffled. Her fingers dug into my back, blunt nails leaving half-moon indents as she gasped against my neck.

She smelled like yesterday's cheap soap and today's sweat, her skin sticky where our stomachs pressed together. The bed creaked under our weight, a familiar protest.

"Even if you smell like a Zero," she murmured, lips grazing my collarbone, "You still feel like home." Her hips lifted, pressing against me with a certainty that left no room for argument—she wasn't going anywhere.

The newspaper lay abandoned on the floor, armistice forgotten as she nipped at my pulse point. Wars had carved hollows in both of us, but right now, the only territory that mattered was the heat between her thighs. I gripped her waist, thumbs pressing into the delicate dip above her hipbones—proof she wasn't a ghost, wasn't some guilt-induced hallucination.

She laughed against my mouth, the sound muffled and breathless, her teeth catching my lower lip. "Daddy keeps thinking too much," she chided, rolling her hips in a slow, filthy circle that made my back arch.

"Fuck me already..." She cooed, taking off her panties slowly like she was peeling off a promise.

The lace snagged on her thigh—some cheap market crap—but when she tossed it aside, I couldn't look away from the wet shine between her legs.

"You're thinking again," she breathed, grabbing my wrist and pressing my fingers against her, hot and slick.

"Feel that? That's all for you." Her voice cracked—not seduction now, just raw need.

I didn’t hesitate. My fingers curled inside her, knuckles pressing into slick heat as she gasped, her thighs clamping around my wrist. Her nails raked down my chest, leaving angry red trails over old scars.

Every moan and every whimper of her lips felt like redemption—something I never knew I needed until her body arched under my touch. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across her bare skin as she trembled, her breath coming in short, sweet gasps. She pulled me closer, fingers gripping my shoulders like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

"Daddy... please," she begged, her voice breaking in a way that made my chest ache.

"Fuck me please..." She uttered, her hands now fishing for my dick.

She grabs my cock through my shorts, stroking it to the point where its confines could no longer hide the fact that I'm fully erect—her smirk widening when she feels the damp patch of pre-cum soaking through the fabric.

"No more thinking," she whispers, tugging my shorts down with impatient fingers, her breath hitching when I spring free against her stomach.

The moment my tip brushes her soaked folds, she arches with a sharp gasp, her nails digging into my hips as she guides me inside—slow, torturous, until I'm buried to the hilt.

"Fuck..." She gasped, her body tightening around like a vice, her walls pulsing with every shallow thrust.

It wasn’t just warmth—it was molten, like sinking into a bath after years of freezing nights. Her clit hugged me with an almost possessive grip, slick and snug, as if her body had memorized the shape of me and refused to let go. Every inch of her trembled, her thighs shaking against my hips, her breath ragged against my neck—raw, unfiltered need dripping from every sound she made.

"Yes... D-Daddy yes..." She grunted.

I've lost count how many weeks it has been since I took her in, how many Sunday nights I have requested Hamura to have her come over.

Every entry always felt like the first time! That's the one thing that separated Ahyeon from the other girls. With them, it was quick—fast, efficient—like fucking a corpse. But Jung Ahyeon? She moved like she wanted to be savored, her hips rolling against me in slow, deliberate circles, each drag of my cock drawing a soft, shuddering gasp from her lips. 

The bed creaked beneath us, not in protest, but in rhythm—like an old song we'd danced to a hundred times before. Her fingers traced the scars on my back, mapping the damage like she was memorizing every ridge and valley, her breath hot against my shoulder.

"D-Daddy... H-Harder..." Ahyeon gasped.

The slap of skin against skin filled my apartment, her thighs trembling where they gripped my hips—desperate, clinging. Her glorious tits bounced with each thrust, the morning sun slowly burning my skin like the first time I crash landed.

That was in '43, when I tried yet failed to protect Admiral Yamamoto from a surprise American attack. I really thought that was the end of me for my failure to protect such a man who was a close second to the Emperor himself.

But a couple more years and one final crash just outside of Tokyo's coast ended my career—fractured pelvis, shattered ribs, and burns that never healed right. Funny how war scars you in ways no surgeon could fix.

Ahyeon's nails raked down my chest now, dragging over those old burns like she could erase them with her touch, her breath coming in ragged little whimpers against my ear.

"D-Daddy, don't stop—" Her plea broke off into a sharp cry as I angled deeper, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her hips to hold her still.

And that was when I truly lost sense of control. I plow myself in and out of the little girl like a man possessed!

My heart rate was through the roof! My adrenaline was at an all time high, like the many times I relied on instinct when all seemed lost and I was ready to fall with my plane. 

But instead of blood, I was drowning in Ahyeon—her slick heat squeezing me tight with every thrust, her sweat-slicked body arching beneath me like she was trying to merge with my skin.

Her moans grew louder, less controlled, her fingers twisting in the sheets before she suddenly grabbed my wrists and pinned them beside her head—her strength surprising me even now.

"No more thinking," she panted, her hips bucking up to meet mine, "just feel me."

The slap of flesh grew louder, her moans mingling with the distant hum of Tokyo waking up outside—bicycle bells, vendors calling, all of it fading beneath the sound of her nails scraping my shoulders. Her thighs clamped tighter around my waist, her back arching off the mattress as her climax hit, her cunt pulsing around me in rhythmic waves that dragged a ragged groan from my throat.

I didn't pull out. Couldn't. Not when she was looking at me like that—eyes glazed, lips parted, her fingers trembling where they clutched my wrists.

"Yes, daddy! Fill me up! Cum inside me!"

And that's when I said 'Fuck it!'

I pushed one last time and felt myself blow up deep down inside her! Every drop and every spurt of my jizz was felt all over my dick, hot, warm, like burning fire in the middle of winter! Ahyeon arched her back with a loud gasp—almost a scream—her body shuddering violently as she took every last ounce of me.

The girl took it, she always did. Except this time, she felt soft... So soft... Like the most delicate silk I've ever touched. My hips jerked involuntarily, my cock twitching inside her as she clenched around me—milking me dry.

"Daddy," she whimpered, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks—not from pain, but something deeper.

Her fingers traced my lips shakily, her breath hitching when I kissed her fingertips, tasting salt and sweat.

I don't know what will happen after this. But whatever we are right now, I don't want to lose it.

Notes: I had a request some time ago about a WW2 Veteran-idol kind of fic.

If you’re still around maybe this will do? His request was a German veteran though but the Japanese was a lot easier and made more sense.

As much as I’d like to though to make a former German soldier and idol pairing, I don’t know up to what extent is the Tumblr TOS on the subject of N*zis. Even I do not like having to obscure words like that.

So yeah, enjoy Ahyeon. SHE CAN SO FUCKING GET IT!!!

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"Hey, hey, hey! It's not like I’m a regular here, okay! Uncle just said to make myself useful!" He quickly defended himself.

"Besides, I don't like the look of those Siao boys... I swear! One of them's definitely the guy that tried to shoot me in that drive-by that nearly got me killed!" He chuckled nervously, flicking ash onto the wet concrete.

"But tell me, Yibo. How did this war really start?" I couldn't help but wonder.

"Beats me!" He responded quickly, yet I couldn't help but glare back at him knowing there was more than just that.

"Look! I don't know the full details man! All I know is we go all the way back into the war with Japan. And when the war ended, our grandpas ran operations to traffic people out of the country." He explained.

"Some went to the US, others simply left nearby, like here, or Japan, and down South to our South East Asian friends. But when Mao took over, the Siao made a deal of sorts with the communists to traffic spies abroad. That's where our differences come in!" He added.

"The Saio took you in their boat, right? Well, you're lucky you're given a chance to live life on your own terms. That includes us, the San. But if you get taken by the Siao... Ohhh... Trust me, man... The regime has you by the balls!" He concluded.

"That's insane! I thought they were involved in everything the regime was against?" I stated.

"Prostitution? Drugs? The authorities would hound you in sight!" I added, shaking my head as the steam from my thermos curled into the cold air.

"Pfft! Yeah, right!" Yibo stated.

"Anything that benefits the regime, my guy! It's a shady business!" He added.

I can't help but wonder, did they really take Handong away from me that night so that they could use her for their pleasures?!?! My blood was boiling at the sheet thought of it. Incheon's cold couldn't handle the heat burning in my veins at the idea that Handong, MY Handong, could've been forced into their bed. My grip tightened around the thermos until my knuckles turned white.

The rumors about the Siao triad were never pretty—whispers of girls disappearing from hostess bars, only to resurface months later with vacant eyes and bruised wrists. I'd always dismissed them as gangland exaggeration, but now... With Handong taken away from me from the Saio's rival gang all those years back, Shit. The coffee turned to acid in my throat.

"Oh my god..."

Yibo suddenly grabs my shoulder and turns me around.

"Who is that?!?!" He said, in which I couldn't help but say along with him at what I saw.

"Sh-Shan Cai?" I muttered.

Even from a distance, I could see Dong Shan Cai approaching the restaurant's door, her silhouette illuminated by the glow of KingChow's sign. The tight black strapless mini-dress clung to her curves like liquid silk, the plunging neckline dipping dangerously low, leaving nothing to the imagination. The way the fabric hugged her hips, the slit riding up her thigh with every step—fuck, she wasn’t just walking, she was strutting, the click of her stilettos on the pavement like a drumbeat straight to my groin.

I thought, shit! Is that really her?!?! The same girl I once fought a couple guys for when they stole her purse? The same nerd her landlady, Aunt Jung once accused me of making a move? And the same girl I just gave an invite to with her boyfriend?

Shit! The boy thought he could just stare me down until Shan Cai had to tell him the truth of how we met, and that I was no harm. I thought I was gonna have to meet the guy again since he was with her when I gave her the invite. But I don't see the guy anywhere near her. I thought, maybe she came alone? Did she want to see me? Or was she expecting me to be here tonight? What the fuck is going on?

"Her name is Shan Cai?"

"Oy! She's fucking mine!" I growled under my breath, already stepping forward before Yibo's laughter cut through the alley like a knife.

"No no no! I meant the one she's talking to! The one in the pink!" Yibo quickly explained.

I turned to look again only to find a very, and I MEAN VERY thick and tall girl standing right next to Shan Cai. The girl was wearing a skimpy pink camisole, so tight that it was pushing her chest up and out like two perfectly ripe melons. Her thighs—god, her thighs—were thick, smooth, underneath her jeans like a promise wrapped in denim. And her ass--Oh, her ass was like the whole of Korea was sculpted out of them, jutting out if her pants like a fucking gravity well, pulling every gaze towards her.

I thought, Shit! She was SO the total opposite of Shan Cai! While the girl was always reluctant and reserved, her friend looked like she was dressed for the occasion, like she came for a great time. Fuck! Even her smile and her laughter was fucking seductive! Like she was trying to tease whoever was looking at her. And Yibo was eating it up like a starving dog.

"Ahee, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course! Isn't that why you invited me here? We're just two broken-hearted girls looking for a great time!"

"Ya!"

I managed to hear what the girls were talking about. I definitely gave Shan Cai the invites, but her friend was clearly the one looking for attention!

"Oh, I'm SO not missing out on her dawg!"

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hold your horses! You still got a shift to finish!" I stopped him.

"But I don't work for you!"

"STILL! Boss' orders! We can make a move AFTER our shifts! Got it?" I stood firm.

"Alright! Alright! You can go meet your Shan Cai! Just promise you'll give me her friend!" Yibo groaned, flicking his cigarette onto the pavement before storming back inside.

"Yeah, sure!"

*09:45 PM

"Yo, Xiaojun! Yibo and I are about to end our shift. You guys can handle it from here, right?" I called out to one of the part timers, his apron splattered with orange sauce from tonight’s pumpkin special.

"Yes, boss. We can handle it from here."

"Good! Shen? How's Shan Cai? Is anyone bothering her? Or her friend?" I asked, rolling up my sleeves—already picturing some drunk Siao punk putting hands where they didn’t belong. Shen smirked, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Nah, boss. They’re tucked in the back booth. The pink one? She keeps ordering tequila shots. Your girl’s just sipping water like she’s waiting for someone." My gut twisted. Waiting for me?

"Good! Take care of the kitchen boys! Yibo and I will be right here!"

"Oh, boy! I can't wait!"

I adjusted my collar for the fifth time, the cheap polyester shirt suddenly feeling like sandpaper against my neck. Fuck. What was I thinking agreeing to this? I still didn't think Shan Cai was gonna bring in a bombshell of a woman!

Shit! If I had to guess, she was the Afreeca streamer type, those kinds of girls streaming online dancing in sexy skimpy clothes! I thought, fuck! Where did Shan Cai get a friend like that?!? Now Yibo couldn't stop AND WOULDN'T STOP yapping about that girl back in the kitchen!

She has been the talk about the boys inside while I was busy prepping our Halloween special. I tried not to dwell on it, but Yibo kept whispering shit like, "Bro, look at her waist—how the fuck is it even legal?" while chopping scallions.

I elbowed the guy hard enough to shut him up, but the damage was done. Now, walking toward their booth, I could feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the restaurant—half wondering why the fuck the kitchen staff was mingling, the other half sizing up Shan Cai’s friend like she was the last dish on the menu.

"Dude, relax! We're about to have a great time!" He grinned, adjusting his shirt collar as if that would help his case.

"Easy for you to say! I look like the guy in the card game!"

"Hahaha! YOU ARE the guy in the card game!" He snorted, puffing his chest out like he didn't still smell like scallions and fryer grease.

I looked back in the mirror and I thought, Shit! I really did look like the guy in the cards game—some cheap Halloween costume thrown together at the last minute. My "formal" outfit was just the same black slacks I wore for funerals, paired with a wrinkled white button-up I'd stolen from the restaurant's lost-and-found. The only thing that made me stand out was the grease stain on my sleeve from tonight’s pumpkin special—proof I wasn’t Yibo’s equal outside the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the guy looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine, his tailored blazer hugging his shoulders like it was made just for him.

"Just remember not to stand out too much..." I uttered, reminding him that he still had to lay low from the Siao boys upstairs.

"Alright! Alright! Come on!" He finally dragged me along towards the booth.

And just like that—the world fucking stopped.

The clatter of chopsticks, the murmur of drunken laughter, even the sizzle from the kitchen faded into white noise when Shan Cai turned her head toward us, towards me. The dim amber light caught the curve of her neck, the way her fingers curled around her glass, the slow blink of her lashes like she was savoring the sight. 

Her lips—painted that deep, sinful red—parted slightly, and for a heartbeat, I swore she mouthed my name. The slit in her dress slid higher as she shifted, revealing a sliver of thigh that made my pulse thud in my ears like a drumline. Fuck. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was a goddamn ambush.

"Yo, Asi! Are you there?"

I heard some fingers snapping before Yibo's stupid-ass grin filled my peripheral vision. "Earth to Asi? Are you alive, man?" He elbowed me hard enough to rattle my ribs, but I barely felt it—not when Shan Cai was tilting her head just so.

"Well? Are you gonna introduce ME, I mean US to each other?" He muttered through his teeth, already extending a hand toward Shan Cai’s friend with the grin of a shark scenting blood. 

The girl—Yibo’s fixation—leaned forward, her corset straining as she propped her chin on her palm, lips curving into something between amusement and challenge.

"Oh? And who’s this handsome devil?" she purred, her voice syrup-thick.

"Right... Shan Cai, Miss... My name is HEO MINGGYU and this is my *friend* Chong Yibo... Straight from Hong Kong..."

"Heo Minggyu? I thought Ahh-"

I elbowed the guy quickly, reminding him to STICK TO THE SCRIPT! MY identity is at stake here!

"Y-yes! That's me!" Yibo stammered, recovering with a slick grin.

"Oh... H-Hello Oppa... This is my friend, Ahee... Lee Ahee... We're classmates in Psychology class." Shan Cai's voice was soft—softer than I remembered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Shan Cai! You as well, Ahee-ssi..." Yibo's voice oozed charm—too much charm.

"Can me and Asi join you?" He just straight up said it—no foreplay, no fucking preamble.

"Sure thing, handsome..." The girl, Ahee, practically purred, scooting over before her corset-clad hips even finished the sentence.

Yibo slid in beside her like a fucking eel, grinning like he'd just won the jackpot lottery—and maybe he had. Shan Cai hesitated, her fingers tightening around her water glass before she gave me the smallest nod. I sat, hyper-aware of the heat radiating from her thigh where it brushed mine.

The smell of her, her perfume, was something I didn't expect from the last time we met. If she had basic cologne that time, tonight was something really REALLY expensive. It smelled expensive, it smelled like luxury, it smelled like something I couldn't afford--like something she shouldn't be wearing around ME. It smelled like she wanted to make me feel small, but fuck, it was working.

"S-So... H-How did you meet, Shan Cai? I thought you were gonna bring Junyeong over?" I asked, inquiring about her boyfriend—her *supposed* boyfriend—while Yibo was already leaning into Ahee’s orbit like a moth to neon.

Shan Cai blinked, her fingers twitching around her glass before she took a sip, the condensation dripping onto her wrist like liquid hesitation. 

"Ah... Junyeong?" She laughed—a brittle, porcelain sound that shattered halfway.

"We... broke up last week." The words landed like a cleaver between my ribs, sudden and sharp.

"Oh? How come?"

"Because the guy was a prick!" Ahee suddenly interjected, swirling her tequila with a smirk.

"Kept trying to tell Shan Cai what to wear, who to talk to—like he owned her. The fucker even kept calling her at night!" She added.

"Trust me! Me and Meng Yu had to be there in case the guy laid a hand on our dear Shan Cai when she told him... Isn't that right, Shan Cai?" She grinned, nudging Shan Cai’s elbow—hard enough to make her wince.

Shan Cai’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tightening around her glass until her knuckles turned white. I caught the flicker of something dark in her eyes before she forced a smile, brittle as sugar glass.

"It’s... fine," she murmured, but the way her knee jerked under the table—like she was stopping herself from bolting—told me it wasn’t.

"But enough about that! Yo, Xiaojun! Go get our special!" Yibo called out like he owned the place.

I thought, huh! A few minutes ago I had this guy under my wing, and now he's acting like he owns the joint! Xiaojun came back with four steaming bowls of our Halloween special—spicy black-bean noodles topped with fried pumpkin fritters, a dish that smelled like autumn and burnt chili oil. 

Ahee squealed, clapping her hands like a kid at a candy store, while Shan Cai stared at hers like it was a puzzle she couldn't solve.

"Wow! This looks so good!" She squealed, her corset straining with every excited bounce.

"You can thank me--I mean, Asi over here! He's the man with the ingredients!" Yibo flaunted before correcting himself quickly.

The last thing I wanted was someone stealing credit from my recipe—especially Yibo—but Shan Cai’s gaze flicking up at me through her lashes shut me up real quick. Her fingers brushed mine as she reached for the chopsticks, sending a jolt up my arm like I’d grabbed a live wire.

"You made this?" she murmured, voice softer than the steam curling off her bowl.

"The Master told me to be creative and I thought... Why not pumpkin?" I mumbled, suddenly hyper-aware of how rough my hands looked next to her manicured fingers.

"I have to admit... You look... Very beautiful today..." I muttered, the words stumbling out before I could stop them.

I knew I wanted to say more, so much more... The Asi that I knew wouldn't hold back now if Shan Cai wasn't around! But right now, the words were stuck in my throat, choking me as I drank in the sight of her. 

Her dress wasn’t just tight—it was sin sewn into fabric, the neckline plunging deep enough to reveal the faintest shadow between her breasts, the kind of tease that made my fingers twitch with the urge to trace it. The way the black silk clung to her waist, flaring just slightly over her hips, like it was barely containing the curve of her ass—fuck, it wasn’t just a dress. It was a dare.

"Oh-Ohh! Th-Thank you, Oppa... A-Ahee chose them for me..."

"Haha! Damn right I did!" The girl, Ahee, laughed, her corset straining as she leaned forward, the swell of her cleavage pressing against the table's edge.

"Shan Cai was gonna wear some frumpy sweater until I dragged her ass to my closet!" She explained.

"Ya! I'm not a streamer!" Shan Cai suddenly replied.

"A streamer, you say? You mean like those girls on AfreecaTV?" Yibo inquired, in which Ahee grinned in delight.

"Ooh, naughty... So you do know about that?" She giggled.

"Bet you're subscribed to me as well, huh?" She added, her fingers trailing along Yibo's forearm.

"There's time for that later on..." He simply replied.

"Ooh *later*... I like the way you talk..." She purred.

"But seriously! If Shan Cai was gonna invite me to a Halloween party, then I was SO NOT gonna let her dress up like a nun!" Ahee added.

I could see Shan Cai's cheeks flush a shade darker than the chili oil swirling in her bowl, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress like she suddenly regretted every stitch of fabric clinging to her body.

"Ahee!" she hissed, voice cracking—half mortification, half warning—but her friend just winked, swirling her tequila with a smirk that spelled trouble.

The way Shan Cai's shoulders hunched, the way her gaze darted to the table like she wished it would swallow her whole—fuck, it was the same look she'd given me years ago when I first met her last year, when I fought thugs who stole her purse.

"Ahee-ssi, I don't think it's wise to tease our Shan Cai over here..." I muttered, nudging Shan Cai's knee under the table—just enough to make her glance up, her dark eyes meeting mine with something like gratitude.

"Oh, come on! We're here to have a great time!" She replied.

"And I can't get enough of this!" Ahee groaned, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles with a reverence usually reserved for lovers—her lips wrapping around them in a slow, deliberate pull that made Yibo’s throat bob.

"Well, lucky for you... We're just getting started..." Yibo uttered, before gesturing to another part-timer for his own special.

"Feast your eyes, ladies!"

"Woah!"

To the girls' delight, the waiter came back with steaming baskets of Shrimp Dumplings, the kind that came out of a Michelin Star Restaurant. I thought, Wow! Even Shan Cai's eyes widened, her lips drooling like she just saw food from outside the province.

"Hong Kong's specialty, ladies! Asi and I REALLY had our works cut out from them!" He boasted, though he did little of the actual work.

But still, it was him who taught me the recipe, Hong Kong's Har Gow was the most sought out in the recent months, and Yibo taught me in the last three hours the exact wrist-flick needed to pleat the dumpling skins just right. 

Now, Shan Cai’s fingertips hovered over the steaming basket—delicate, hesitant—before she plucked one up with a tiny gasp, her lips parting around the translucent skin. The way her eyes fluttered shut as she bit down, the faint moan that escaped her throat—fuck, it wasn’t just hunger. It was worship.

"Mmm! Oppa... this is..." she murmured, sauce glistening at the corner of her mouth, and I had to grip the edge of the table to stop myself from leaning in to lick it off.

"Oh my god, this is amazing!" Ahee cheered in delight, her eyes sparkling like she'd just discovered the secret to happiness.

Her cheeks puffed out adorably with each bite, her laughter bubbling up between chews like fizzy soda. The way she'd clap her hands together after every bite, her corset straining with each excited wiggle, made her look less like a bombshell and more like an overeager puppy.

I thought, wow... For someone who was supposed to be a seductress, Ahee was such a dork. The way she'd accidentally knock over her shot glass, then giggle like a kid caught stealing candy.

Who knows? Maybe this was just another trick up her sleeve, an act she developed in constantly acting cute and sultry on screen wearing all kinds of racy and revealing costumes—but damn, if she wasn't winning me over with every bite. 

Shan Cai, meanwhile, was nibbling at her dumpling like it might bite back, her lips glistening with oil as she glanced at me sideways—eyes darting away every time I caught her looking. The booth suddenly felt ten degrees hotter, the steam from the food mingling with the scent of Shan Cai’s perfume and Ahee’s giggling breaths.

"It's good, isn't it?" Yibo grinned, watching Ahee practically vibrate with joy as she shoveled another dumpling into her mouth.

Shan Cai nodded eagerly, her earlier hesitation melting away with each bite, her fingers now moving with confident little grabs at the food. The two girls exchanged a look—eyes bright, cheeks stuffed—and for a moment, they weren’t the sexy Halloween fantasy across the table; they were just two dorky college girls united by carbs and chili oil.

"Now tell us, how long have you and Minggyu Oppa known each other?" Ahee suddenly inquired.

For a moment, Yibo and I could just look back at each other. I thought, Shit! Neither of us didn't think this part through! What was I supposed to say? That I just met this guy earlier seeking refuge in my kitchen? And that his uncle was a Triad head having a meeting with my master upstairs? Fuck!

"Ahee-ssi... Well... Uh..." Yibo stammered, his grin faltering like a dying light bulb.

"About a week ago! His uncle had him sent here as a part-timer while he's out on business with my master!" I managed to say, nudging Yibo to play along.

"Y-Yeah! Asi made sure my time here in the restaurant was well spent!" Yibo added, flashing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I am gonna miss this place though. Uncle and I are about to take the first flight tomorrow." He suddenly added, which made Ahee gasp.

"Awe! You're leaving already?" She pouted, her bottom lip trembling so exaggeratedly it looked like she might cry actual diamonds.

"But we were just about to have a great time?!?!" She whined, slumping forward dramatically.

"We are, sweetheart!" Yibo stated, suddenly proclaiming Ahee for his own like she was his trophy.

"In fact, the DJ is about to come! AND I saved us the fucking best for last!" He added.

Much to our surprise, one of the waiters suddenly came to our booth and brought with him 4 glasses of burning cocktails!

I thought, Fuck! If Shan Cai and I were both shocked, Ahee was literally wilding, like Korea's football team just scored a goal.

"LET'S GO!!!" She shrieked, slamming her palms on the table hard enough to make Shan Cai flinch—but Yibo was already matching her energy, grabbing his glass with a grin that spelled trouble.

"Drinks up, friends!" He declared.

And with that we all grabbed our glasses—flames licking the rims like eager tongues—Shan Cai hesitating before her fingers curled tight around hers, the firelight dancing in her dark eyes.

"To... whatever this is," Ahee giggled.

"A great time!" Yibo corrected her.

And on that note, we all took our drinks—mine hitting my tongue like liquid fire, the burn of cinnamon licking down my throat. But fuck, it was GOOD—sweet enough to make you forget it was alcohol until the warmth pooled low in your stomach. 

Ahee threw hers back like a pro, slamming the empty glass down with a gasp, her corset straining as she arched back, laughing at the ceiling like she'd just conquered Mt. Everest.

"Holy SHIT that was GOOD!" she wheezed, fanning her mouth.

Shan Cai barely finished her drink but managed to gulp it down, coughing as the liquid heat hit her throat—her cheeks flushing instantly, lips parted in a gasp. The firelight flickered against her collarbone, tracing the delicate hollows like a painter’s brush, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. 

Ahee was already flagging down the waiter for another round, fingers snapping impatiently, while Yibo leaned in close, whispering something that made her throw her head back with a laugh so loud it drew stares.

"Woah! Easy down there, Sweetheart! There's more shots for us later on!" He cautioned, in which Ahee groaned in protest.

"Ya! I'm not a light weight!" She huffed.

"I know! But DJ Wong out here's gonna start the Halloween bash soon! Isn't that right, DJ?!?" Yibo shouted, slapping the counter hard enough to make the glasses tremble.

And right on cue, the overhead lights dimmed—neon strobes slicing through the smoky air as the bass kicked in like a sledgehammer to the chest. The whole restaurant erupted, patrons howling as the DJ dropped the beat, his turntables glowing ghostly green under UV lights.

"LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!"

"WOOOH!"

With the DJ's broken English, the party officially began—though it was less Halloween bash and more drunkard chaos. It didn't take long for patrons to fill up the makeshift dance floor, mostly young millenials like us, college students and your workers alike filling the space with hip hop blasting from the speakers.

"LET'S GOOO!!!"

Ahee got up and pulled Shan Cai with her, ignoring her protests. "Come on, we're not just gonna sit here!" she giggled, dragging Shan Cai onto the dance floor.

I meet Yibo's eyes, his grin sharper than a butcher's knife—already knowing what he's thinking.

"Welp? Guess we better go after them..." Yibo gestured.

And without second thoughts, the bloke and I went after the girls—*our* girls.Yibo moving like a shark through the crowd, while I kept stumbling over my own feet like some drunk idiot. It didn't take long for him to get his hands on Ahee, the girl laughing in delight seeing him rather than show some discomfort.

Meanwhile, I approached Shan Cai and she didn’t pull away when I slid an arm around her waist—her body stiffened for a split second before melting against me like honey.

"I didn't think you would be the party going type..." I muttered into Shan Cai's ear over the thumping bass, my fingers brushing against the bare skin where her dress dipped low on her back.

"I'm not..." She replied.

"But if Ahee wants me to dance then, I don't want to be a party pooper…" She added, her voice barely audible over the music.

"Ha! For someone that doesn't party! You look like you're enjoying yourself!" I laughed as Shan Cai instinctively matched my rhythm, her hips swaying just enough for the slit in her dress to tease me with glimpses of thigh.

"Shut up!" She giggled—actually *giggled*—her fingers curling into my shirtfront as the bass pulsed through us like a second heartbeat.

"I bet I can dance better than you in this next hit!" She added.

I don't know if that was her being drunk, or that was the real Shan Cai unfolding into my arms—but fuck if I didn't love it. The song switched to something slower, bass-heavy, and suddenly she was pressed flush against me, her breath warm against my neck. Her hips rolled with mine in a way that made my grip tighten instinctively on her waist—like if I let go, she might float away.

Across the dance floor, Yibo had Ahee pinned between him and a pillar, her corset straining as she arched into him with a laugh that could've melted steel. The way his hands slid down her denim-clad thighs wasn't subtle—neither was the hungry look he shot me over her shoulder, teeth glinting in the strobe lights like he'd already won.

But my attention snapped back to Shan Cai as her fingers tangled in my hair. Her lips brushed my ear—hot, unsteady—as she whispered, "C-Can we... get out of here?"

The music faded to a dull throb in my skull. Shan Cai’s breath hitched when my fingers dug into her waist—half guiding, half claiming—as I steered her toward the back exit. Behind us, Ahee’s squeal cut through the bass as Yibo lifted her onto the bar, her corset barely containing the bounce of her laughter.

The alley air was frigid compared to the sweat-slick heat of the dance floor, but Shan Cai didn’t shiver. She pressed closer, her back against the brick wall, fingers fumbling with my belt like she’d done this a thousand times—except her knuckles kept brushing my stomach, hesitant, unsure.

“Are you sure about this?” I murmured, catching her wrist before she could undo the buckle.

"I-I just... W-Well, I-... Mppphhh..."

Before I could even finish my question, Shan Cai’s hands shot up to cup my face and yanked me down—her lips crashing into mine with a desperation that tasted like tequila and stolen breaths.

I thought I’d imagined this moment a hundred times—how her mouth would feel, the way she’d gasp against me—but nothing compared to the reality of her fingers twisting in my hair, her hips grinding against mine like she was trying to fuse us together.

"Oh my god!" She suddenly gasped, pulling away—her lips swollen, her chest heaving—like she'd just remembered something horrifying.

"I-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-"

"No! Don't be..." I replied back, pinning her back against the wall before she could bolt—my palm flattening against the brick beside her head.

"You don't get to kiss me like that and apologize." I added.

Her eyes were wide, lips parted in silence as my thumb traced the smeared edge of her lipstick. The distant bassline pulsed through the alley like a second heartbeat, syncing with the frantic rhythm of her breathing. And when I finally kissed her again, I felt her melting.

Fuck! She was everything I could've imagined—soft lips, slightly parted, her breath hitching as I pushed further. Her tongue tasted like cinnamon and tequila, warm and hot, with a mix of her lip gloss. Every hesitant press sent chills down my spine, her fingers reluctantly tightening in my hair like I might pull away. But I wasn't going anywhere!

"D-Don't make me regret this..." She whimpered, fingers trembling as they traced the collar of my shirt.

"I can tell you the same thing..." I growled, pulling her flush against me.

"O-Oppa... I-..."

"Woh ay ni..." I said it, those damned words spilling out of my lips before I could take them back!

"Woh ay ni, Dong Shan Cai... I should've told you sooner..." I added, letting her know... letting her feel that this was not an illusion, a dream... that this was all too real for her to deny.

I hear her gasp—like I'd plunged a knife between her ribs—her fingers freezing where they'd been clutching my shirt. The alley smelled like rotting trash and spilled liquor, but all I could taste was the salt of her tears as they streaked down her cheeks, glistening under the flickering neon sign above us.

"I'm done being alone... I-... I want..."

"Me too," Shan Cai whispered, the words cracking like thin ice beneath her breath.

"I... I like you, Oppa... I-... really thought you wouldn't..."

I kissed her again... I couldn't bear the sight of her crying—not when her lips were trembling. The alley was cold, but her mouth was warm, her body pressing into me with a hunger that matched my own. I could feel the hitch in her breath when my hands slid lower, gripping the back of her thighs to lift her against the wall—her legs wrapping around my waist like instinct. The slit in her dress rode up, bare skin meeting the rough denim of my jeans, and she gasped into my mouth like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

"I love you..." The words slipped out before I could stop them—too raw, too much—yet Shan Cai didn't flinch. 

Her fingers tightened in my hair like she was drowning and I was the only thing keeping her afloat. The realization hit me like a cleaver to the ribs: *I’m about to fuck her, am I? I'm about to fuck Shan Cai...* Her dress was already riding up, the cheap fabric bunching under my palms, and suddenly all I could think was *What if I hurt her? What if she regrets this tomorrow?*

But then...

"OH SHIT!" Ahee's voice cut through the alley like a firecracker, her corset barely containing her laughter as Yibo followed her from behind.

"What is this, Shan Cai?!?! Are you really-- OH MY GOD!" Ahee shrieked, swaying dangerously on her stilettos as she pointed at us.

"Y-Ya! Ahee it's not what it looks like..." Shan Cai stammered, scrambling off me with her dress twisted sideways—a certain section of her neckline a little lower than her nipple.

The girl Ahee just cackled, slapping Yibo's chest hard enough to make him wheeze, her corset straining as she doubled over laughing.

"Ya! I don't need to be a scholar to know what you're up to..." Ahee slurred, waggling her eyebrows while adjusting Shan Cai's dress with drunken precision.

I turn to Yibo to find him grinning against the dumpster, his collar unbuttoned to reveal fresh bite marks—Ahee's handiwork no doubt.

"Ha! So you do know how to play..."  He slurred, pointing at me with a grin that smelled like tequila and bad decisions.

"Well, Yibo-ssi... What should we do with our horny friends?"

"N-No Ahee, please! I don't want to have a scandal!"

"Haha! Of course not! I know how to keep a secret..." Ahee giggled, pressing a finger to Shan Cai's lips.

"That is if you're willing to terms..."

"T-Terms?!?" Shan Cai squeaked.

"Eh? Ahee-ssi what do you mean-"

"Oh, it's not much! No one's gonna get hurt..." Ahee cut me off.

"I'll tell you what, I promised to help Shan Cai have a *great time together*... Isn't that right?" She uttered, eyes darting towards Shan Cai like she was guilty of a crime.

Shan Cai visibly stiffened—not that I'd notice, with her pressed against me. The words *"great time together"* hung heavy, like a knife balanced on its edge.

"And since Shan Cai doesn't want her image ruined as the *good girl*, it's only fitting we take this somewhere else..." Ahee purred, her fingers trailing up Yibo's arm while he smirked, pulling not one but TWO hotel keycards from his blazer pocket.

My breath hitched at the sight of them, 2 thin bars of platinum silver plating in Yibo's hands, like he dug them out of the ground and polished them himself.

"Limited offer... We San have a small stake... Brochure's effective until tonight... Would be a shame if you let it go to waste right?" Yibo purred, flipping the keycards between his fingers like a dealer—his grin widening at the way Ahee’s pupils dilated.

I thought, Shit... Was I really gonna do this with Shan Cai like this, a alleyway kiss away from fucking her in a star-standard hotel? I looked at her once more and I thought, Fuck...

"Come on, Asi... Take it..." Yibo grinned, pressing the cold edge of the keycard into my palm with a slow push—like he was handing me a loaded pistol instead of a hotel pass.

His knuckles brushed my wrist, sticky with spit or Ahee's slit... and for a split second, I thought about flicking it away before I took it instead...

And with that, Ahee cocked her head—eyes half-lidded, lips still shiny from tequila—and raised one manicured finger to tap Shan Cai's chin.

"Well then, Shall we?"

***

The elevator groaned like a dying beast as its doors slowly slid shut—a rusted metal coffin sealing us in. I felt Shan Cai’s fingers dug into my forearm as the lift lurched upward, her breath hitching when the overhead bulb flickered, casting her face in jagged shadows.

Beside us, Yibo and Ahee stood right next to us, albeit too close...

They looked like a loving couple on the surface, Yibo snuggling Ahee from behind like a boy in love. But his fingers had already slipped past the laces of her corset, tracing slow circles on the bare skin of her waist while she pretended not to notice. Her hips pressed back against him, the hem of her skirt hiked up a bit higher than normal—enough to reveal her ass leaning against his jeans peeking from underneath.

The lift itself was grandeur in its own right, but all I could focus on was Shan Cai’s breath, her pulse thundering where my thumb brushed her wrist.

"Ahh-"

I turned, thinking Shan Cai might've gasped—but it was Ahee, her head lolling against Yibo's shoulder as he kissed the side of her neck.

The man let go of her when the elevator dinged open and we stepped out onto our floor.

"Yours is that one..." He grinned, pointing toward the door at the end—a sleek black monolith with a golden handle.

"Have fun..." Ahee nudges to Shan Cai.

"You'll thank me later..." She added, before slowly joining Yibo inside his room.

And when their door shut, it didn't take long for the sounds of someone making out to be heard from inside. I knew Shan Cai heard it too—her breath hitched when a particularly loud moan echoed down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the mattress. Her grip on my arm tightened, nails biting through my sleeve as she stared at our own door like it might bite her.

The keycard trembled in my hand as I swiped it—once, twice—before the lock clicked green. Shan Cai hesitated on the threshold, her heels scraping against the carpet as she glanced back toward the elevator. For a moment, I thought she might bolt and run away and leave me hanging.

But her hands held me tight—not pulling away, not pushing closer—just *holding*, like she was anchoring herself to the moment. The door swung open silently, revealing a suite drenched in gold-tinted dimness, the king-sized bed piled with silk pillows that looked softer than sin. The girl hitched when I nudged her forward, her stiletto catching on the plush rug.

And when the door closed, Shan Cai's back hit the wall with a soft thud—her breath hitching as I caged her in, my palms flat against the wallpaper on either side of her head.

I looked at her... just me and her... Her large eyes staring back at me—wide, uncertain.

"No regrets?" I murmured as a last line of defense, one final line before everything changed.

"No..." Shan Cai replied.

And that's when I kissed her again—not like before, not scared, not nervous but hungry, desperate, like I was starving and she was my last meal. My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to tilt her head back, her gasp swallowed by my mouth. 

The taste of her--*Dong Shancai*—hit me, and I chased it deeper, my tongue sliding against hers in a rhythm that made her whimper. Her hands held the back of my head tight, nails biting through my hair as she arched into me, her body molding against mine like she was trying to erase every inch of space between us.

For the nth time, I told her "I love you..."—words rough, barely audible—as I took Shan Cai off the floor--carrying her towards the bed without breaking our kiss. Her legs wrapped tight around my waist, heels digging into my back as I lowered her onto the mattress, the silk sheets whispering beneath us.

At this point, the gloves were off! I ripped myself out of my clothes like a hungry man possessed. Every hour and every minute has led us to this point. And I wasn't going to waste it.

I peeled the girl out of her dress like unwrapping a forbidden gift, my fingers trembling against the chest line of her tube dress before sliding it down her breasts.

I thought my eyes popped the moment I laid eyes on her bare breasts. I thought, Shit! She was a lot bigger than I thought! For a short girl around 5'3, Shan Cai's chest looked bug—huge, round, and heavy, with nipples already stiffened into tight pink peaks. My hands shook as I traced the soft underside of one breast, the skin impossibly smooth under my fingers.

She gasped when I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, her back arching off the bed like she'd just been electrocuted.

"O-Oppa—" Her voice cracked when my fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down inch by inch until she was bare beneath me.

"Y-You've done this before, right?" I murmured, in which she was quick to respond.

"Y-Yeah... Once..."

Well that was a bit of a relief...

Even if her ex was a nonce, at least I don't have to worry about hurting her. That's all that mattered—that she knew what was coming. My thumbs traced the dip of her hips, her skin flushing pink where I touched.

The girl squirmed under my gaze, thighs pressing together out of reflex before I nudged them apart. The first brush of my fingers drew a sharp gasp—her slickness undeniable, her body already betraying how much she wanted this.

"You get wet easily, don't you?" I couldn't help but tease, seeing her in her most vulnerable moment—spread open, trembling, her pupils blown wide with anticipation. She whimpered when I circled her entrance with one finger, the slick heat almost burning against my skin.

"Sh-Shut up! J-Just—" Shan Cai's protest died in a moan when I finally pushed inside, her back arching off the mattress as her walls clenched tight around my finger.

Every inch of her felt like molten silk, her inner walls fluttering against my fingers like a shy kiss. The smell of her—musky, sweet—filled the space between us, thick enough to taste when she gasped my name, her hips bucking involuntarily against my hand.

"Ahh...Ah-Ahhh... Oppa..."

Fuck! I could listen to her moaning every night! I don't know if I can control myself. But if Shan Cai's going to be mine, then I'm gonna make sure she fucking *remembers* this night.

My fingers curled deeper, finding that one sweet spot that made her gasp louder—her nails digging into my shoulders as her thighs trembled.

"M-More..." she whimpered, her hips rolling desperately against my hand, her slick coating my fingers like honey.

I couldn't hold back—not with her writhing beneath me, her breath coming in ragged little gasps that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.

"Look at me," I growled, withdrawing my fingers just enough to see her eyes snap open—dazed, desperate—before thrusting back in with two fingers this time.

Her choked cry was muffled against my shoulder as her back arched violently, her pussy walls closing down like a vise. I felt the slick heat of her orgasm coating my fingers, her thighs clamping around my wrist as she shook—eyes rolling back like I'd just rewired her completely.

"Ahhh!"

Shit, I didn't know she could scream like that! Shan Cai blew underneath me like a bomb—her whole body locking up tight before shattering apart. Her back arched off the bed so violently I thought she might snap in half, her thighs clamping around my wrist like a trap. The sounds she made—high, broken, almost *crying*—sent jolts down my spine as her pussy pulsed around my fingers in wet, rhythmic clenches. I watched, mesmerized, as her nipples hardened into painful-looking peaks, her chest heaving like she’d just run a marathon while her orgasm ripped through her.

And when she stopped, I thought, this was it... I'm about to fuck her am I? There's no other way this was going to end. She lay boneless beneath me, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

"Are you ready?" I murmured, my voice rough as gravel, my cock pressing against her thigh—hot, heavy, *needing*.

"Y-Yeah..." She uttered back, the doubt in her voice crystal clear as I aimed my shaft straight into her dripping slit.

She shivered so violently when I pressed the tip of me against her entrance—her thighs already spreading like a silent invitation.

"Easy..." I murmured as I pressed into her, my cockhead parting her slick folds with agonizing slowness.

She gasped, real hard when the first few inches of me got into her. I thought, Fuck! She was crazy tight! Every inch inside her felt like touching something so forbidden yet so precious! Shit! She was so sensitive that every little inch I pushed in made her twitch and whimper—her nails digging crescent moons into my shoulders.

"O-Oppa... Y-You're so..." she gasped, her thighs trembling against my hips, but I could already feel her body adjusting, her walls fluttering in reluctant welcome.

"F-Fuck!" I couldn't help but utter when I bottomed out.

The shape and size of her cunt felt like it was made for me—tight enough to make me grit my teeth, but yielding in a way that sent shocks up my spine. Every inch of her pulsed around me, wet and warm, like her body was trying to pull me deeper. 

She gasped—a broken, breathy sound—when I rocked my hips experimentally, her slickness coating me like molten silk. The sensation was almost unbearable—too much, too intense—but I couldn't stop, not when her legs locked around my waist like she never wanted me to leave.

"I love you..." I tell her again—words rough, barely audible.

She whimpered when I pushed back in, her fingers tightening in my hair, her breath hitching as I set a slow, unhurried rhythm—deep strokes that make her toes curl against the sheets. The bed creaks softly beneath us, the sound drowned out by her ragged gasps and the slick slide of our bodies moving together.

"Me too... I love you too, Oppa..." She whimpered between kisses, her lips chasing mine even as I kept thrusting.

I thought, Fuck! If I wanted to drown now, tonight would be that moment. Every smack I gave her thighs was like smashing a glass containing Han Dong's memories. Every second our lips stuck together was like swallowing poisonous perfume. 

Every moan she let out was a confession I'd forced from her—all while her legs trembled around my waist like she couldn't decide whether to push me away or pull me deeper.

Han Dong... I'm sorry... But it's time I moved on... It was time I lived my life to the fullest... And I was gonna do it with Shan Cai...

I promise I will never forget you... But right now... My life was right here... With this Shanghai exchange student...

We might be young... We might not know what awaits us... But I promise to make things right... I'll wait for her to graduate before I can have her as my wife... We'll have a family together... Maybe with a kid or two...

But for now, I let myself go as I drove into her with everything I had—no more hesitation, no more restraint—just raw, unfiltered need. Every thrust sent Shan Cai arching off the bed, her moans growing louder, more desperate as I pinned her wrists above her head, my fingers tightening around them like shackles. 

The way she writhed beneath me—her back bowing, her nipples brushing against my chest—sent sparks through my veins, her wet heat clamping down on me like she was trying to milk every last drop.

"Ahhhh!!! Ahhhh!!! Oppa!!! Ahhh!!!"

That's it! Scream for me Shan Cai! Let everyone in this hotel hear you! Scream louder than Ahee if you could! Every thrust was punctuated by Shan Cai’s gasps—sharp, breathless—her nails raked down my back, leaving burning trails that only drove me deeper. Her legs locked around my waist like a vise, pulling me impossibly closer whilst her hips jerked in erratic counter-thrusts, her body moving on pure instinct now.

The slap of skin on skin echoed through the suite, mingling with the wet, filthy sounds of her cunt gripping me with each withdrawal—as if her body was begging me to stay buried inside.

"L-Let go... I'm about to-"

Her legs were still stuck around me! I thought, Shit! If she kept holding me like this, I was gonna blow right in!

"I-I'm safe..." She managed to gasp, her thighs tightening even as she trembled—a silent plea for me to keep going.

"Ahee and I took the pill... I-I... Y-You can...!" she gasped, her words fracturing.

And that was when I truly lost it! If this was how I was gonna go, then Shan Cai was going to feel every last drop—every violent pulse—as I wrecked her without mercy. My hips pistoned into her like a jackhammer gone rogue, the bedframe slamming against the wall with each push. Her tits bounced wildly with every snap of my pelvis, her moans dissolving into choked screams as I fucked her like I was trying to carve my name into her! 

She clawed at my shoulders, her legs kicking helplessly against my waist—not to escape, but to pull me deeper, her cunt clenching around me in wet, spasming ripples that threatened to snap my control.

"I can't... H-Hold... No more..." I gritted out, my hips stuttering as Shan Cai's walls clenched around me—her orgasm ripping through her with a scream that rattled the lamp.

And the moment her back arched off, I fucking lost it—burying myself to the hilt as I came harder than I ever had, my vision whiting out while my dick pulsed inside her, thick unrelenting spurts.

I pinned the girl down, my whole body crashing into her short tiny frame as the spurts of me kept pumping inside—Shan Cai’s legs twitching around my waist like she was still trying to milk every last drop.

I thought, Shit! What have I done?!?!

I wasn't ready to be a father yet. But if Shan Cai's words were true, then I should be safe...

Her cunt held me tight, her walls perfectly molding into my shaft as the last of my cum pulsed deep inside her. I fell down atop her trembling body—both of us slick with sweat, our breaths ragged—her fingers still tangled in my hair like she feared I’d vanish if she let go.

"I love you..." Was all I could say.

Even after telling her several times, I couldn't help but tell it to her again, and again, and again as I claimed her lips once more—gentler this time, softer, like I was relearning the shape of her mouth. 

They were swollen, alright. But there was something else now—something *mine*—mixed into the sweetness. Her fingers traced lazy circles on the back of my neck as our tongues brushed together, slow and unhurried, savoring the aftermath rather than chasing another high.

"Me too, Oppa... I love you..."

Too many *regrets* have come and gone...

Handong, Vivi, Xuanyi, Yoohyeon just to name a few. But Dong Shan Cai? No! I wasn't going to lose this girl no matter what!

She was too quiet afterwards—cheek pressed to my chest, fingertips tracing idle circles on my ribs like she was mapping new territory. The AC hummed too loud suddenly, the silence between us swelling.

"I'm excited to be with you..." I muttered against her forehead, my fingers tracing the damp tendrils of hair stuck to her temples.

Shan Cai giggled—an airy, disbelieving sound—as she pressed closer, her bare thigh sliding over mine. "Oppa, you're ridiculous," she whispered, but her fingers tightened around my wrist when I reached to brush a stray tear from her lashes.

"But yes, I love you too, Heo Minggyu-ssi..." She replied back.

The smile on her face was something I will never forget. It was everything—soft, hesitant, glowing in the dim light like a secret kept too long. Her fingers traced my jawline, lingering at the stubble she'd never seen me without before.

"We should shower," she murmured, but made no move to leave the tangle of limbs and rumpled sheets.

I was ready to take this girl again...

All roads were leading up to round 2... Or 3...

I was about to claim this girl's lips again until...

*Boom!

We paused, everything around us suddenly going quiet for a split second—until a series of smaller explosions and the faint sounds of people screaming down the street made Shan Cai flinch against me, her fingers digging into my arm.

"ASI!!! ASI!!! WE GOTTA GO!!!"

I heard Yibo calling me frantically from outside, his fists banging on my door like a man possessed. The panic in his voice made my blood run cold—this wasn't some drunken brawl. This was serious!

"I'M COMING!!!" I called back to him.

"I gotta go! Go as far away as you can! Tell Ahee to get out of here!" I told Shan Cai frantically as I got off and rushed to fix myself.

"B-But..."

"NOW SHAN CAI! I'LL COME BACK TO YOU!" I demanded.

I wished I didn't have to raise my voice on her so soon. But this was still triad business!

"Please! Just go..." I pleaded, my hands cupping her face like a prayer—her wide eyes brimming with tears as I kissed her forehead hard enough to bruise.

"Okay..."

And with that, she frantically pulled up her dress and made a run for it. She opened the door to find Ahee and Yibo already outside.

Ahee immediately grabbed Shan Cai's hand and the girls desperately made a run for it towards the direction Yibo was pointing them at. I watched the pair slowly disappear from view before Yibo shoved me towards the elevator—his face grim as he pressed the emergency override button. 

The lift descended faster than it should have, its cables screaming under the strain as we plummeted towards the chaos below.

"What's going on, Yibo?!?! What was that explosion?!?"

"Something went wrong! The meeting was ambushed! The guys said my Uncle's been shot!" He replied back, his voice cracking like a whip.

"Ya! Can you shoot? I'll have one of the guys here hand you a gun!" He barked as the elevator hit the ground floor.

"If I have to! Who the hell are we dealing with?!?"

"Beats me! But if I had a guess, Lau Ka Long didn't like the terms! Your master could be in trouble as well!"

"Fuck!"

I couldn't believe it! This was as real as it gets! I knew I was sleeping with the triads, but this was a whole new league already!

"You! Give him your extra!" Yibo pointed out to one of the security team.

"That's all I have for now, you good?" He yelled as the security guard pressed a Glock into my hands—cold metal slick with sweat.

Everything was leading up to this moment now. I haven't killed someone in a couple of years, not since that fateful night in Wuhan! I might not have fired a gun before, but whatever happens tonight... I'm not going down without a fight!

"Yeah, I'll manage..." I uttered, in which Yibo was quick to give the order to his men.

"Good! YA! READY THE CAR! WE HEAD BACK TO KINGCHOW!

Notes: It’s kind of weird for me to say this, but yeah, this series is actually close to completion.

I’m about to end one of my books!

I’ll provide a long reason as to why the end is coming so soon. But long story short, a lack of interest for my part and the general audience slowly dragged me to ending this saga.

Now even after this book ends, it doesn’t mean Asi’s story ends here.

He’s still gonna be around in the other serieses later on. I also had to ask myself, what else do I have to do to develop his character? The goal in my series has always been to develop my character’s personality and make him who he is in the end whether he likes it or not.

And as I’m constantly thinking of ideas, I kept asking the same questions, WHO and WHY would he fuck? HOW OFTEN does a triad leader really have sex that would benefit his personality? I can always make scenarios for that in the lost chapters, but yeah, those kinds of chapters are not the ones that would affect the whole Dark Horse Universe as a whole.

So yeah, to those that actually followed this series, I hope you can enjoy the last remaining chapters before I end it soon.

BUT THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I was gonna end it without Dao Mingsi and Dong Shan Cai fucking! YEAH!!!!

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