I've Got A Secret

Team 3 x Karina: x2 Jacks x2 Kings (+60) (₩5,430,000,000)

The results hung over the stage like a guillotine blade waiting to drop, and my stomach twisted so hard I thought everything inside me would spill out. I was still on my knees; the ghost of Yujin’s warmth had yet to fully fade from my skin, and the drugs were still pumping violently through my veins, making the edges of my vision vibrate like a broken screen.

Why do they want two Jacks instead of their full table? There has to be a reason—

“Jack,” the handler’s voice interrupted whatever train of thought I had left. “You’re up again. Can you continue?”

Continue? Right now? Like this?

My lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass, and my head was pounding like a thousand hammers were striking it all at once.

“I...” my voice cracked. I couldn’t even start the sentence, let alone finish it.

“He looks spent,” another voice sneered from the shadows.

A male figure stepped forward boldly—arrogantly—and I didn’t need to look twice to know who it was. The smug Jack. Of course he was assigned. It was like the King of Spades was doing it on purpose.

“I have to admit he fucked that Yujin whore real good earlier,” he said, stretching his arms, as if warming up for a gym session. “But there’s no way he can go again.”

“Call her that again,” I grunted, fingers curling into the carpet, “and I’ll—”

He laughed mockingly. “And you’ll do what? You can’t even move.”

“Jack of Spades,” the handler repeated, impatient now. “Are you capable of performing, or do you need to be replaced?”

My legs trembled, ready to buckle against my will, but the threat of the alternative kept me breathing. “I can do it,” I forced out, pushing myself up. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he tilted his head, his silver mask reflecting what little light there was backstage. “Because if you are unable to perform, we have a reserve ready.”

Choi Mingyu? No way. If he comes out here—if he gets his hands on Karina—

“No!” I snapped, the word ripping out of my throat to interrupt my own thoughts. “I said I’ll do it!”

The smug Jack chuckled, walking past me to stand by the Dealer. “We’ll see how long this lasts, pretty boy.”

Two more figures emerged from the wings, their masks more discreet than every other VIP’s—less flashy; a matte, dull, lifeless gold. During the break, whispers had floated around the waiting room that the guests from Table Three were Korean politicians, but I couldn’t tell exactly who from just the bottom half of their faces, only that they certainly looked the part, in all the worst ways.

They didn’t look at me, at the Dealer, or even at the audience. Their eyes were locked on the singular figure standing in the center of the stage, like she was the target from beginning to end.

Karina.

She looked unreal, more like a portrait or a masterfully carved statue than a person, the way she stood perfectly still with her hands folded behind her back. The blindfold cut across her face like a stroke of blood and the red collar hugged her throat like a fresh wound, a stark, violent contrast against her pale complexion radiating underneath the spotlight, making her look like a fallen goddess.

“Let us begin, shall we?” the Dealer’s voice slithered through the speakers.

The two Kings moved in a terrifyingly rehearsed unison, as if it wasn’t their first time—on the stage, together, or with Karina.

“Finally,” one of them said, his voice laced with excitement but also something blatantly sinister. “We meet again, High Ace Karina.”

“A High Ace no more,” the other corrected, smacking his teeth. “How pitiful. The shame you must feel facing the crowd like this.”

Without warning, one of them grabbed her arm; the other her hair, yanking her head back—not hard, but enough to show the entire room who was in control. Karina gasped loudly, a sharp, broken sound that echoed through the silent hall.

“Careful, gentlemen…” the Dealer warned from the distance. “As I’m sure you both know, our Karina is quite... fragile. She has a tendency to fold when things become even a little unpleasant.”

“We know,” one of the Kings grunted, running his fingers down her body like he’d been waiting all night, perhaps even longer. “Don’t worry… we’ll be more gentle this year. Just a little.”

Karina didn’t say a word. She just stood there, glaring at them through her blindfold like their presence alone made her sick to her stomach.

“She folded too early last year!” a voice shouted from the audience. “Don’t let her off easy this time!”

More voices joined in.

“Yeah! Make her put on a proper show!”

“This is a giant pot this year, make it worth it!”

The smug Jack strutted over, eyeing her like a vulture waiting for scraps. “I have an idea. Why don’t we just cover her mouth?” he said, pulling a ball gag from the table of equipment. “Prevent her from even saying the safeword. Make sure she can’t fold—”

“Put that away! What the hell’s your problem?” the King snapped. “Are you sick in the head? Besides, they also have hand gestures to fold. The rules say it’s one or the other, and I’d rather tie her cute little hands.”

The Jack furrowed his brows. “Huh… didn’t know there were rules like that.”

“Are you joking? We played two Jacks so you could help control the tempo, given your familiarity with her. And you didn’t even know the rules? Tell me you at least know her limits so you can prevent her from folding.”

The Jack shrugged. “I’ve never fucked this slut before. She’s too elite.”

“What?” they asked, diverting their eyes to me now. “What about you?”

It was like my mouth worked on autopilot. “Go fuck yourselves,” I murmured, steadying my breathing. “Scumbags.”

The two of them scoffed in disbelief and looked into the darkness of the stage. “Hey, House! We need new Jacks—”

The smug Jack put his hands up, interrupting their demand. “Wait. Let me stay. I’ll work with you. We’ll make sure she doesn’t fold,” he said, his voice overly accommodating. “Don’t replace me, I wanna know how her pussy feels. This might be my only chance.”

“This isn’t a charity, Jack. We paid good money for this.”

“I know, I know—but trust me, the other Jacks back there are all done after Yuna fucked them dry earlier,” he said, inching closer, as if trying to gain the trust of a feral animal. “If we’re talking quality, I’m the best you’ve got, really.”

There was some hesitation and murmurs amongst each other, but they eventually nodded.

“Then put that damn thing away and come help,” they said, waving him over.

“Fine,” the Jack muttered, tossing the gag on the floor. “Let’s tie her up.”

“And you too,” one of them pointed at me. “Get over here.”

I didn’t move. I would have rather been shot dead.

“I said come here,” he repeated.

“No,” I snarled, limbs barely holding me up. “I’m not playing your fucked up game.”

There was a rather menacing laugh from the shadows that echoed through the stage, but I couldn’t tell who it was from, nor did I have the capacity to care.

“Why the hell did they send you here then if you’re not going to do anything?” the Jack spat, looking down at me. “Fucking coward. You’re a disgrace to the House of Spades.”

The three of them quickly pulled the crimson ropes from the tables, as if they had practiced a hundred times before the round started. The red cord bit into her shoulders first, looping under her arms and crossing over her chest in intricate patterns that emphasized her breathing without restricting it. Then, they pulled the knots tight at the base of her neck, right beneath her collar, forcing her spine to arch. Finally, they wrenched her wrists upward against her back, securing them into the web they had woven like a cage against her skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” one of them growled, admiring her bound figure. “An actual human goddess... reduced to this.”

“Who do you serve tonight, Karina?” the other said, burying his face into the curve of her neck. He inhaled deeply—a wet, sniffing sound that made me want to vomit.

She flinched slightly, clenching her jaw. “Y-you, Master,” she forced out.

“Oh?” He pulled back, feigning disappointment. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

“Did we just pay two and a half billion won for a girl who’s unwilling?” the other sneered, stepping closer.

“No,” Karina gasped, voice shaking. “I want to serve you, Master. I… I can’t wait to make you happy. Please, tell me what you want me to do.”

“We want you to enjoy this,” one of them whispered against her ear, licking her jaw in a slow, dangerous stroke. “Show the audience what it means to be an Ace of Spades, Rina. Wear your collar proudly if you really think you deserve it.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he purred, guiding her down, forcing her to her knees in front of the other King, who had taken his seat on the black velvet chaise, legs spread wide. “Now open up.”

Karina struggled to keep balance with her arms bound behind her back, but the King gripped her shoulders, aligning her carefully, forcing her lips to navigate the space and her tongue to find the hardened cock before her. Her head then fell over, taking him whole, as if anchoring her entire upper body over his cock.

“That’s it,” the sitting King sighed, tangling his fingers in her hair to pull her deeper. “Just like that, baby. Put that pretty mouth to good use.”

“Damn.” The Jack chuckled to himself as he paced around the three of them, admiring the horrifying view. “I wonder if she’s even half as good at sucking dick as Jang Wonyoung.”

“We don’t give a shit about Jang Wonyoung,” the other King muttered, running his hands all over her body as she continued slurping on the other’s cock. “Karina is the only Ace that matters.”

“Well, you’re missing out then,” the Jack said, leaning against the frame of the chair next to them. “Jang Wonyoung’s mouth is crazy. I thought the rumors were overblown, but that whore is an oral prodigy. But don’t worry, I’ll let you know how this one compares once it’s my turn.”

“You talk a lot for a Jack,” the King on the chaise grunted. “Did you know that?”

He grinned proudly. “So I’ve heard.”

The King who had been standing finally dropped to his knees, his shadow swallowing her small frame as he buried his face against the nape of her neck, dragging a hot, wet trail of open-mouthed kisses down the delicate line of her spine, causing her to shiver. His hands moved possessively, kneading the full, pale flesh of her breasts that the ropes had pushed up to accentuate their shape, squeezing them until her skin flushed underneath.

But he didn’t stop there; he dragged his face lower, past the trembling arch of her lower back, taking a long moment to admire the view.

“God,” he breathed, spreading her cheeks wide with zero hesitation, “what a fucking gorgeous looking pussy.”

Before she could even brace herself, he buried his tongue deep in her hole with a sloppy, animalistic hunger that echoed sickeningly through the silence.

Karina choked around the other King’s length, a small, desperate sound escaping the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to accommodate the girth forcing her jaw open, but without her hands to stabilize herself, her head bobbed helplessly with every thrust, her neck straining like a flower stem about to snap.

“Fuck… it tastes so good,” he groaned ecstatically, his voice muffled against her skin. He pulled back, frustration bleeding into his tone as he ran a thumb roughly over her clit. “Too bad it’s not even a little wet.”

The Jack let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Sounds like a skill issue to me.”

“Watch your mouth, you little shit,” the King snapped, glaring over Karina’s trembling hip. “You think you can do better? This is Karina. She doesn’t just give it up.”

“So what if it’s Karina?” The Jack smirked, stepping closer with an arrogance that irritated the entire room. “Every bitch gets wet if you actually know how to break her.”

“Prove it, then,” the King spat, abandoning his position behind her. “Show us your tricks. That’s why we brought you.”

He crawled up her body, burying his face in her cleavage, latching onto her exposed nipples with a hunger that resembled a child’s tantrum. The sound of thick, sloppy suction filled the air, mixing with the choked noises escaping Karina’s throat as the first King continued to thrust deeper into her mouth, forcing saliva to spill out down her chin.

The Jack just smirked and knelt between her splayed legs, prying her apart with ease. He didn’t touch her yet—instead, he leaned in close until his nose brushed against the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

“Whoa, she smells really good,” he snickered, breathing her in. “And her body is soft as hell.”

Karina whimpered, her head thrashing as much as the cock in her throat would allow, eyes squeezing shut.

“Honestly, I’ve always wanted to know,” the Jack taunted, his voice a low, annoying purr as he licked the crease between her cheeks, tongue swirling dangerously close to her other hole. “What it feels like to break... Karina.”

Karina gagged, pulling back just enough to free herself for a split second while she gasped for air, her chest heaving against the King’s mouth.

“How... how dare you,” she rasped, her voice trembling but filled with an innate rebelliousness. “You call Aces by their names?”

“Who’s going to stop me?” The Jack grinned, eyes gleaming with malice. “You?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He buried his face between her thighs, tongue driving straight into her tight hole with a ruthlessness that made her entire body quiver.

“Nngh!”

The sound was torn from her throat—a raw, high-pitched cry that shattered her composure, her mouth falling open in a silent scream that followed.

The King nursing on her breasts pulled back with a wet pop. “Wow, look at that,” he said, amused. “The great Karina melts for a dirty Jack’s tongue in her pretty little asshole? It was that easy?”

“Let’s see her face now,” the King grunted, his cock glistening with her saliva under the harsh stage lights.

He reached down, ripping the blindfold away in one rough motion. She blinked rapidly against the harsh spotlight, her pupils blown wide and swimming in a haze of humiliation.

“Look at us,” he taunted, slapping her cheek lightly with his hard length. “Tell us who you belong to tonight.”

“…I belong to you, Master,” she choked out, though her voice cracked in the middle. “I’m—aah!”

The Jack tongued her hole harder, swirling deep inside, then lapping circles around it afterward, forcing her spine to arch involuntarily.

“There—she’s getting wet now,” he declared in triumph, pulling back slightly to admire the evidence.

“You’re more impressive than you look—and sound,” the other King remarked.

The Jack grinned. “I told you it was worth keeping me in. Now, let’s see how her juices taste...”

He dragged his tongue in a long, wet stripe from her ass straight down to her clit, slurping with a disgusting noise that echoed through the room.

“Oh, that’s good.” He shoved two fingers inside her, curling and snapping against her walls while his mouth ravaged her flesh. “It’s not Minju good, but it’s up there. It’s nice and addicting for sure.”

Karina bucked, a muffled scream tearing through her throat, her eyes rolling back as her thighs trembled violently against the Jack’s shoulders as if the pleasure short-circuited her brain.

“You like this, don’t you?” He laughed, smacking her cheeks repeatedly, leaving pink marks behind. “Say it.”

“I like it,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of his tongue.

“Louder!” He continued sucking harder, lapping at her flesh like a dog that hadn’t seen water for days. “Say what you like, you little pervert!”

Drool slipped out of the sides of her lips as she struggled to stay balanced, her hips bucking to every loud, animalistic lick.

“I love having my ass licked,” Karina moaned, the shameful confession leaking out like the wetness below her. “I’m a perverted Ace who really enjoys having this Jack’s tongue in her asshole.”

The audience roared, shouting wild obscenities as the Jack’s fingers worked her relentlessly, forcing her hips to jerk and her cheeks to bounce with every movement.

“Damn, you really are the perfect sex doll, aren’t you?” he chuckled to himself. “No wonder they all love you.”

He pulled back to play with her ass thoroughly, kneading the milky soft flesh and slapping it just hard enough to make it jiggle in front of the crowd, watching with satisfaction as his own spit dripped down towards her now soaking folds.

“You’re just another dirty little slut in the end,” he said, teasing both her holes with his wet fingers. “You’re all the same.”

“Please don’t stop,” she begged, arching her back against the ropes, pushing herself backwards into his touch. “Please… I wanna come while you lick my asshole…”

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, echoing off the walls with a needy, gruesome fervor that caused the King sitting down to grow impatient. He grabbed a handful of her hair, then slammed his cock back into her open mouth, stuffing her full to stifle the sound of her moans.

“Sorry,” he snickered. “As sexy as you sound when you howl like a dog, your mouth is too good.”

The other King stood up, examining the mess the Jack was making between her legs with a visible hunger. “Get out of the way now,” he ordered. “You did your job.”

“Aw, come on,” the Jack laughed, his face slick with her juices. “There’s room to share.”

The King slid himself underneath her hips and forced her thighs wider, dropping his face directly below her now glistening lips, pulling her bodyweight down while the Jack stayed buried between her cheeks.

She squirmed as both of their tongues devoured her holes simultaneously, lapping and slurping with a horrifying ferocity. Her hips and cheeks bounced on their own, each movement increasing in speed, chaining the pleasure until she was squealing like a trapped animal.

“Make her scream,” the Jack grunted. “She’s too quiet. I hate it when they’re quiet.”

“She’s not a screamer,” the King replied, ignoring her exhaustion and shoving himself back into her mouth with a wet slap. “She takes it like a good whore, don’t you, Rina?”

“I can make her scream,” the Jack grinned, eyeing her backside. “Let me fuck her in the ass. That always works.”

“No! She’ll fold. Keep her within her limits.”

The scene blurred into a montage of flushed skin and tangled limbs. They didn’t just use her; they passed her back and forth like a toy, rotating her through positions that felt endless.

But it wasn’t the swapping of juices, the slapping of flesh, or the redness blooming on her body that made my skin crawl—it was how her strangled cries slowly, but surely, dissolved into wet, breathless whimpers of what could only be deciphered as an awakening carnal need.

I watched, because that was all I could do. My stomach twisted into tight, painful knots as two of the Kings hoisted her effortlessly into the air, gripping her thighs like handles, suspending her fragile body like a trophy while the third drove into her from below with a force that shook her entire frame.

“Look at her pretty face,” one grunted. “This is the real Karina. Loving every second of this.”

“Yes, Master…” Karina gasped, her head rolling back, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. “I love it so much. Please keep fucking me like this. Please continue to destroy my perverted pussy that can’t stop coming for you.”

Her legs didn’t kick him away; they hooked around his waist, locking him in for more, while her head fell back with a broken, high-pitched moan that sounded terrifyingly like release.

Then the scene shifted.

She was on her knees, head bobbing helplessly as one of them took her from behind, his hips snapping against her rippling ass while his hands reached around to roughly fondle her breasts, squeezing the pale flesh until her hardened nipples peaked through the slots of his fingers. The other two loomed in front of her, rotating through her mouth. She didn’t even have time to gasp for air before the next one was shoving himself down her throat, and yet, she didn’t pull back. She started leaning forward, her tongue chasing the taste of them desperately, like it was keeping her alive.

“She’s pretty fucking good at this,” the Jack laughed, grabbing her hair to force her deeper onto him. “You’re not too far behind from Wonyoung. No wonder you used to be High Ace.”

Karina pulled back for a split second, a string of saliva connecting her lips to him. “Don’t… ever… call me by my name…” she slurred, her eyes heavy and unfocused. “I’m an Ace… I’m the High Ace of Spades…”

“You’re a cocksleeve,” the Jack corrected, shoving himself back in. “So do your job and make me come.”

And this time, she didn’t argue—she swallowed him whole in a daze of pure, mindless pleasure.

They forced her down onto the Jack’s lap, and she sank onto him with a broken gasp, her hips beginning to grind in a slow, exhausted rhythm. The two Kings wasted no time descending upon her like birds of prey, flanking her on either side, burying their faces into her chest.

“You love it, don’t you?” the King mumbled against her skin, biting down. “Getting your pretty nipples sucked like this. God, you’re delicious.”

“Please…” she sobbed, but her hips were snapping against the Jack, progressively harder and faster. “Keep sucking them. I’ll come. I’ll come again. More, more, more!”

They didn’t let her rest. They hauled her onto the chaise, draping her body over the edge so her head hung over the armrest while a King drove into her with a rhythm that made her entire frame shudder. The second one hovered above, dragging his length between her breasts with bruising force.

She wasn’t drowning anymore; she was drinking from their cups of lust, disappearing under the weight of their desire, her eyes rolling back into a storm of white, completely lost to the pleasure of her own ruin.

The longer it went on, the more it was clear that Karina was breaking, piece by piece, inch by inch, right in front of me.

I knelt there, frozen and useless, paralysis rooting me to the floor, praying for the word “fold” to leave her lips.

But it never came.

The nightmare didn’t end because they were finished with her; it paused because they needed to catch their breath.

“I need a minute,” a King grunted, his chest heaving as sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

He looked at me, his eyes now reduced to black orbs behind the gold mask, as he grabbed Karina by her arms, hauling her up from the floor like a ragdoll, shoving her hard toward me.

My arms wrapped around her trembling frame instinctively as she stumbled and crashed straight into my chest. She felt feverishly hot; her skin was covered with sweat and spit.

“Your turn, hero,” the King sneered, turning his back to grab a glass of water. “You fuck her now. Make yourself useful by keeping her nice and wet for us.”

I looked down at her carefully, afraid that even my gaze would break her. Her head was resting against my shoulder, breaths coming in shallow, broken gasps.

“No,” I whispered, the word barely scraping past my throat. “I won’t.”

A tap from the glass startled me as the handler spoke into his earpiece, “Participate, Jack, or you will be removed.”

I swallowed and gripped Karina’s shoulders, pulling her back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were swimming, pupils dilating from the pills.

“Karina,” I hissed, my voice merely a desperate thread of sound. “Listen to me.”

She flinched, blinking rapidly. “Karina? Another Jack who—”

“No, it’s not like that—I’m not really a Jack—I know Sora and John,” I whispered, hoping the mics wouldn’t pick it up. “And Wonyoung, too.”

She froze. The haze in her eyes cleared for just a split second.

“I’m Wonyoung’s boyfriend,” I lied—the same lie I’d told a hundred times, but it was the only one that made more sense than the truth. “I came here to help.”

“Wonyoung’s… boyfriend?” She stared at me, brows furrowing with whatever strength they had left. “You’re the Park… Wonbin person? You’re the reason she got in trouble?”

I nodded, guilt twisting in my gut like a knife. “I know you two don’t like each other, but I’m on your side. I want to help you—”

She looked at me like I was insane. “What do you mean we don’t like each other?”

“I—I saw the video where she took your collar. And your title.” I stumbled, confusion washing over me suddenly. “I just assumed you hate her—”

“I love her,” she breathed out, shaking her head weakly. “We’re like sisters.”

Sisters? Wonyoung and Karina?

“Then why—” I started, my voice cracking.

“We’re all playing a role. Just like you are right now.”

In my periphery, I could see the Jack begin to turn back around, looking at the clock.

“Listen to me, Karina,” I choked out, panic rising in my chest. “You have to fold. Please. Just fold.”

“I can’t,” she whispered against my skin. “I can’t just fold for no reason. If the House feels cheated... if the audience feels cheated... I’ll be punished later. It’ll be worse than just enduring this.”

“I can’t do this to you!” I begged, my hands shaking so violently on her bare arms I thought I might bruise her. “Please, Karina. I don’t want to touch you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t hurt me. Just do as you’re told.”

“They want me to have sex with you. I can’t. I can’t do that to you—or to Wonyo—”

“Do it,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a desperate, commanding tone. “Just do it. If you won’t, they will.”

I shook my head frantically, tears blurring my vision until she was just a smear of pale skin and red rope. “I can’t do this to you. Sora and John came to save you, but they failed because of me. This is all happening because of me. I’m the last person who should be—”

“If you want to help me,” she said, pulling me closer until her forehead rested against mine. “Then make me fold yourself.”

“W-what?”

She looked up at me, her eyes tragic and beautiful and full of a terrifying resolve.

“Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore. Break me so that they can’t. Give me a proper reason to fold. I’ll fold for you.”

“That’s crazy! I can’t! There has to be another way—”

“Hurry! The drugs are taking over again, I can feel it. Please!”

I stared at her, paralyzed. My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird, the rhythm so violent it made my vision swim. This wasn’t a choice or a favor, it was an execution. I was being asked to destroy her myself out of mercy, as if I hadn’t committed enough sins against her already.

“If you won’t start,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “then I will.”

She dropped to her knees.

“Karina, wait—”

Before I could even protest, her hot, wet mouth had already engulfed me completely.

“Karina, stop!” I gasped, my knees buckling as the sensation hit me like a physical blow.

My own mind was fracturing. Every nerve ending was screaming. The feeling of her tongue—soft, wet, and so incredibly skilled—wasn’t just pleasure; it was an assault. It was like she was trying to suck the soul out of me.

It feels… so good. I have to stop her, but I can’t. My body won’t listen. Why does it have to feel so good? Why is she so good? Is this… really the mark of an Ace of Spades?

My hands hovered over her head, trembling, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. But she didn’t stop. She sucked with a desperate, terrifying thirst, her head bobbing furiously like she was trying to force me to cave.

“Why won’t you fuck me?” she mumbled around me, pulling back just enough to look up. Her lips were swollen, chin covered with saliva, eyes swimming in a hypnotic haze. “Am I not good enough for you?”

That’s not it—I just can’t see you that way. You’re Sora’s dongsaeng, Karina. I can’t.

Her fingers rubbed frantic circles around her clit, and her moans became so loud in between her sucks and slurps that they started drowning out the murmurs of the crowd.

“Is Wonyoung that much better than me?” she demanded, her voice rising, cracking into a sob.

I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Is she? How can anyone be better than this? This… feels like heaven and hell all at once.

“Does she fuck you so good that no one else can ever compare? Is that why you won’t touch me?”

She gagged around me intentionally, deep and wet as her throat convulsed around my length. When she pulled back again, there was genuine anger in her eyes—a flash of fury that had nothing to do with the auction and everything to do with being denied.

“Answer me!” she hissed. “You don’t want to fuck me? Even like this? Even when I’m begging you?”

My mouth finally worked. “K-Karina, please—”

“Look at me!” she screamed, grabbing my hips to pull me closer. “Everyone wants me! Why don’t you? Why are you denying me? I’m Karina! I’m the High Ace of Spades! You should be honored!”

Before I could answer, the Kings grabbed her arms, hauling her away from me like a piece of luggage they were reclaiming. “Come back here, we’re not done with you.”

“She’s finally losing it,” the smug Jack laughed, watching her thrash against them. “What did you do to her? She’s broken now.”

But something had shifted in her eyes. It wasn’t fear anymore. It was like she wasn’t the same person, and it made me question if she was ever afraid to begin with.

Karina screamed, but it wasn’t a plea or a cry for help. It was a raw, almost animalistic sound of frustration that tore through the room, sending chills down my spine as I kneeled hopelessly on the floor.

She broke free from their holds and lunged forward, grabbing my legs, burying her face in my thighs again.

“Fuck me!” she growled, kissing my skin wildly. “I want you to fuck me!”

I looked down at her—at the desperation in her eyes that was quickly turning into resentment. Then I looked at the audience. No one I recognized was there anymore. John, James, Jake—everyone was gone. Only a sea of monsters practically drooling at the edge of their seats.

“I can’t,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “I’m sorry, Karina. I can’t.”

The Jack grabbed her ankle, dragging her back. “Pathetic,” he spat, looking at me with pure disgust. “She’s begging you to use her, and you’re refusing. You’re not a Jack. You’re a fraud.”

He turned to Karina, towering over her. “And you. You’re no High Ace. You’re just a used-up toy. Wonyoung deserves to take your place. She’s twice the woman you are.”

Something inside her completely snapped. I saw it happen in slow motion—a hot wave of rage flooded her face, drowning out whatever was left of the girl begging me for help.

She laughed. It was a manic, broken sound that echoed uncomfortably in the silence that followed.

“Is that what they say now?” she snarled, her voice trembling with a dark, venomous amusement. “That she’s twice the woman?”

A terrifying smile spread across her face, not one of submission, but of a predator recognizing its prey—or rather, a prey realizing it was never one at all.

“You’re all pathetic,” she whispered, the sound low and dangerous. “I’m bored of this show.”

She dropped to her knees in front of the Jack, her hands flying to his already hardening length with a speed that made him stumble back in surprise.

“What the hell—”

Before he could even steady himself, she had him in her mouth, taking him deep with a suction so intense his knees buckled instantly.

The Kings stood frozen, shocked by the sudden act of rebellion and shift in power. They didn’t move to stop her; they just watched, stunned, as she worked the Jack with a violent, punishing rhythm. Her head bobbed furiously, her tongue swirling around his tip while her throat massaged him deeper than he had probably ever been taken in his life.

She looked up, spit still trailing from her chin. “You think only Wonyoung can make you come with her mouth?” she taunted, her voice dripping with anger. “Who do you think carried this House before she was drawn? Who do you think you’re talking to when you dare to speak my name so casually?”

“H-hold on, wait—”

She didn’t let him answer—she didn’t care what he had to say. She swallowed him whole again, sucking with such ferocity that he cried out, his legs shaking violently until he spilled into her mouth with a loud groan of defeat.

“Never call an Ace by her name again for as long as you live,” Karina snarled, spitting his cum directly onto his face just before shoving him aside. “Worthless trash.”

Then she spun around, grabbing the nearest King by the shoulders and forcing him down onto the mat. “Now you,” she said calmly.

“Karina, what’s gotten into—”

There wasn’t a single ounce of care left in her to explain. She mounted his face, grinding her dripping pussy against his mouth with a feral energy that forced him to work for every breath. At the same time, she reached up and grabbed the second King, pulling him down until his cock was level with her face.

“Hurry up and come,” she commanded, her voice ragged as she began stroking him firmly. “I’ve got better things to do with the time remaining.”

She took the second King into her mouth while riding the first one’s face, turning the scene into a grand, shocking performance that left the audience with no room to breathe, let alone think.

But she didn’t stop there.

“Get up.” She grabbed the King beneath her by his hair, yanking him upwards. “Fuck me properly,” she ordered, pushing him to his knees.

She kneeled upright, aligning her ass with his cock before impaling herself back onto him.

“J-Jesus,” he muttered, his hands scrambling to grip her waist for balance as her pussy swallowed him whole. “Fuck—you’re crazy!”

Then, she grabbed the second King’s cock, forcing it between her breasts, squeezing them together around his length.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” he groaned, struggling to keep balance.

“Harder,” Karina commanded the King behind her, arching her back. “You two talked a big game earlier, but this is all you’ve got?”

She alternated between dragging her wet, open mouth down the second King’s shaft, swallowing him whole, and then pulling back to suffocate him with the softness her cleavage.

“Fuck!” the King in front of her cried out as she squeezed her breasts around his length, milking him with a rhythmic, ruthless pressure.

He couldn’t last. He erupted, hot white streams firing across her chest and neck, painting her pale skin with his defeat.

She didn’t flinch or even move; she just watched him come undone, her eyes gleaming with a triumphant satisfaction as he shuddered and went limp in her grasp.

“Pathetic,” she muttered, staring him down as she continued to grind back against the King behind her.

His composure had shattered completely; his hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh like they were the only thing keeping him from falling off the edge of the world.

She leaned her weight back against his chest, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair, yanking his head forward with a sharp, commanding force. “Come on,” she hissed against his ear. “Harder. Faster. Deeper.”

He obeyed, his hips snapping forward with a desperate, animalistic speed that made her breasts bounce violently with every impact, forcing the cum covering her chest to splash and drip down her stomach.

“Make me fold, Master,” she taunted, her lips parted as she looked right into his defeated eyes. “I dare you.”

He groaned, a low, weak sound of surrender, and leaned back on his hands, his head falling back as the pressure built to what looked to be an unbearable peak.

She didn’t slow the rhythm; she took control instead—pushing herself back onto him with a grinding motion that caused him to whimper.

“I’m com—”

She popped off his length right as he groaned loudly, leaving him to spill his seed uselessly into the air, before hot, thick spurts splashed messily over the curve of her ass and thighs.

“It was that easy?” she scoffed, repeating their words mockingly.

She stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as the three of them lay panting on the floor.

“Oh my,” the Dealer said, voice blaring over the roar of the crowd. “It would seem that the performance has taken quite the turn this year, folks…”

Karina looked at the clock and finally turned to me, as if ready to collect a prize with whatever time remained. Her chest was heaving, her skin flushed a violent shade of pink, and her eyes were wild—dilated, dangerous, and completely locked onto mine. She crawled over the mat, the red ropes trailing behind her like a leash she had snapped.

She didn’t ask this time. She grabbed the back of my neck and buried her face there, her teeth grazing the skin of my throat.

“Park Wonbin,” she whispered against my pulse, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “I cleared the table for you. Now will you fuck me?”

She sucked hard, intentionally leaving a mark, branding me right below the leather collar for everyone to see.

“Why are you doing this?” I breathed, my entire body practically screaming to have more of her, even though my mind was fighting profusely. “Why do I have to fuck you? It’s already over. You won.”

She pulled back, her hands tangling in my hair, yanking my head back until I was forced to look up at her. “It’s not over until you make me fold,” she said with a smirk.

“What’s the point?” I said, feeling my mouth water against my will as my eyes focused on her swollen red lips. “What’s gotten into you?”

She tilted her head like a predator toying with its food. “I just want you to fuck me, Park Wonbin,” she said with a fake tone of innocence. “We have to play our roles. They’re all watching. Or are you going to disappoint everyone like you disappointed her?”

She sank down onto me without warning.

“F-fuck…” I gasped, my hands gripping her waist instinctively as her heat completely enveloped me.

She was so terrifyingly hot and wet, moving with so much precision that it was like she was curating every sensation around my shaft.

“Is this how she likes it?” she spat, grinding her hips down. “Does Wonnie prefer when you just sit there and make her do all the work?”

“Leave her out of this,” I grunted, clenching my jaw. “If you want to play games, don’t mention her name.”

She rode me with a punishing rhythm, her nails digging into my scalp, twisting the strands. “Are you mad? Are you going to punish me now?”

It was like my hands had a mind of their own. They latched onto her ass, squeezing hard into her cheeks, lifting them as they bounced up and down my length.

“There you go,” she moaned, running her tongue across my ear. “Touch me. You want to, I know you do.”

“Why are you like this, Karina?” I moaned. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Come on, make me fold. You promised you’d help. You came all the way here to help, didn’t you? Or are you secretly enjoying this too much?” She feigned a gasp. “You love how my pussy feels, don’t you? Could it be—my god—you like fucking me more than Wonnie? You like me more—”

Something inside me snapped. The jealousy, the drugs, the sheer audacity of her taunts—it all boiled over into an exploding rage.

“Shut up,” I growled, flipping her off me.

She gasped loudly as her back hit the mat, but before she could react, I was on top of her. I grabbed her ankles and forced her legs up, pinning them back until her knees were beside her shoulders, exposing her completely.

Her pussy was drenched in arousal, practically leaking onto the mat below us, and her nipples were so stiff that it looked like they were screaming to be sucked on.

I drove into her, sliding right back into her slippery hole without any resistance.

“Ah!” Her head slammed back against the cushion, eyes rolling back.

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” I said, thrusting harder into her as we glared at each other, eyes locked between a dense layer of sweat and fury.

“Oh god,” she moaned, her hand drifting down to rub her clit furiously. “You’re so deep, I can feel you all the way inside me.”

“No.” I reached down and snatched her hand away, pinning it above her head. “You don’t get to come. You have to fold.”

“Then make me!” she screamed, bucking her hips to meet me. “Choke me! Slap me! Fuck me to dea—”

My hand found her throat, squeezing just hard enough to silence her and make her eyes flutter. My other hand lightly struck her cheek; the sound was sharp, shocking, but she just whined, her hips snapping faster, desperate for more.

“Fold!” I barked, slapping her again.

“Harder!” she demanded, hitting me back, stinging my cheek. “Stop holding back! Everyone can see you being a fucking coward! Aren’t you embarrassed?! Do it properly, you worthless Jack!”

It was like I was possessed by something that wasn’t human anymore. I flipped her over, pressing her face into the cushion, and grabbed her hips, pulling her back onto me to fuck her flat on the floor with a fast, punishing pace.

“Fold, now!” I yelled, somewhere between a command and a plea.

“No! I don’t want to fold!” she sobbed into the mat, her voice muffled but ecstatic. “Your cock feels so fucking good! Keep fucking me just like this! Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked Wonnie!”

I slapped her ass—once, twice, three times—leaving bright red handprints on her pale skin, but the harder I tried, the more she screamed in delight.

“Fold!” I commanded, pumping into her violently, forcing loud splashing sounds out of her hole as I pulled one of her knees up to deepen the angle.

She smiled, eyes rolling now. “More! Give me more!”

“You really won’t fold?” I warned, reaching down to wet my thumb with her overflowing juices before circling the entrance of her other hole. “Last chance.”

Her lips parted, eyes widening as she stared straight into my eyes, past wherever the windows to my soul were supposed to be. “Do it,” she dared.

I pulled her cheeks apart and pushed my thumb right into her ass, feeling the warm flesh squeezing me immediately like they were fighting off an intruder.

Her entire body seized.

But I kept fucking her roughly, driving into her as hard as I could while my thumb sank deeper with every thrust until she’d swallowed it whole.

“Oh fu—oh fu—fuck—fuuuuck—I’m coming s-s-so hard—ungh—”

She still didn’t fold—she shattered, clamping down on me in both places, milking me with a violence that tore a roar from my own throat.

I couldn’t hold back. I was drowning in whatever demonic force had cursed the both of us to share this sinful moment together.

“Fold, please—” I begged, just before pulling out at the last second.

My hips jerked uncontrollably as I spilled all over the curve of her ass and the dip of her lower back, collapsing right on top of her, lungs burning, heart hammering like a malfunctioning machine.

We lay there for a moment, a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing, while the audience roared with such intensity that I thought it would break my eardrums.

Then, slowly, she turned her head. She shifted, crawling out from under me, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my drenched forehead.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice broken but mischievously satisfied.

Then she turned to the Dealer.

“I fold,” she announced, right before falling over me.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

“Ladies and gentlemen… the moment has arrived at long last.”

The first thing I felt was the cold, pressing flat against my cheek, as my eyes slowly opened to the sound of the Dealer’s voice echoing through the stage. My skull was hollow, and my limbs were somewhere far away from me, like they weren’t even a part of my body anymore.

Then came the smell: floral, warm, and mildly sweet against a room that reeked of sweat, sex, and cigars.

The lingering trace of Yujin’s perfume mixed with Karina’s clung to my flesh, branded into my throat, collarbone, and arms, reminding me that the nightmare had been real the entire time.

“We now begin the final round of the Blackjack Auction. The last, yes… but certainly not the least—and for many of you, this may very well be the beginning of the real show.”

I blinked against the overhead lights, my body still catching up on what my ears had just registered.

The last round. It was almost over, but the end never felt so far away.

“Now, for our first-time auctioneers, you may have noticed from the beginning that your decks each came with an ace card,” the Dealer said, moving along the edge of the stage with that annoying, exaggerated stance. “Yes, you guessed right… In the final round, these aces can finally be played.”

My stomach dropped straight through the floor. How many more people were going to be dragged onto this stage before these sick bastards were satisfied?

“My lovely patrons, if you’re thinking that ace cards may be used in the final round to bring back Aces from the previous rounds, then you’d be correct!” The Dealer raised a single finger, his voice dropping into a low warning. “But do keep in mind, you may only summon Aces that belong to the same House as the performer—there will be no cross-mixing tonight!”

Bring them back.

The words landed like a slap to the face. All of them, pulled back under these lights for another round of whatever these masked animals decided they were worth tonight.

“However! It comes with a very hefty price tag.” He stopped and spread his arms wide, basking in the hunger of the crowd like it was sunlight as the audience leaned forward in their seats. “You see, Ace cards cost… exactly half of their own pot during their round. So yes, use them wisely… for they can get quite pricey, even for the most prestigious of guests.”

A low hum of whispers broke out across the tables; some sounded like shock, others entertained and greedy.

Half of their pot, just to pull someone back out here. Just to buy another performance from a body that had already given everything it had.

“Now then,” the Dealer said, his voice laced with both malice and excitement. “Shall we begin?”

The giant screens suspended above the stage flickered, plunging the room into total darkness for a split second before a massive, bleeding crimson heart illuminated the space. The scarlet glow washed over the masked faces in the audience, turning the sea of billionaires into what looked like a gallery of predators covered in blood.

“For the House of Hearts’ final performance, we present the princess herself,” the Dealer announced. “She has reigned over the industry for countless years, her career and track record a force to be reckoned with, stealing the hearts of many. Please welcome the High Ace of Hearts… Sakura of LE SSERAFIM!”

The crowd cheered loudly as Sakura stepped out from the shadows, her movements so delicate that she didn’t seem to disturb even the air around her. Like all the other Aces, she wore nothing but a velvet red collar around her neck and a matching silk blindfold, shadows carefully hugging her waist like a dark corset to exaggerate every dip and curve of her doll-like proportions.

“Welcome back, my dear,” the Dealer purred, stepping to the side as if he were unworthy of sharing her spotlight. “In a mere two years, the House of Hearts has already molded you into a deity. Tell me, what do you plan on showing our patrons tonight?”

Sakura stood perfectly still, her hands gracefully clasped behind her back, tilting her chin up slightly. “I have a special talent that I’d like to show you all,” she said softly. “I also want to remind our wonderful VIPs… that those who love with all their hearts will receive nothing but devotion in return from our House.”

An enthusiastic applause instantly filled the hall. It was surprisingly polite, but underneath the cheers and steady clapping, there was an undeniable excitement of men rushing to grab their cards.

“You heard her! Thirty seconds, my lovely patrons!” the Dealer announced with a loud clap. “Show us your true devotion!”

BIDDING OVER Sakura ♥ [Team 1] 🅹 + 🅹 [Team 3] 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 40 [Team 5] 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 (Winner!) Total points: 40 + 6 🅹 (₩2,200,000,000)

It clicked instantly to me upon seeing the results. No one was even bothering with normal cards anymore—the entire auction had turned into a strategic standoff of who was hoarding their Jokers for their favorite High Aces. Everything prior to this was just foreplay to these people.

“Team Five has played a perfect hand, with no contenders!” the Dealer shrieked, pointing at the board as the numbers shifted to tally the final cost. “Let’s waste no more time, show us your face cards!”

Team 5 x Sakura: x3 Ace x1 Queen x1 King ((109 + 102 + 175) / 2 + 35) (₩4,480,000,000)

“One King and three Aces! These Hearts simps are so stupid that it hurts!” someone laughed from the front row. “This Hearts round costs almost as much as Karina’s!”

“Finally, we see the infamous Harem of Hearts!”

“Now this is one round you’re better off watching than participating in!”

The Dealer threw his arms wide, silencing the guests. “Team 5 has claimed the High Ace of Hearts! And in their infinite generosity, they have invoked the absolute right to resurrect the entirety of the House of Hearts!”

He paused for effect—letting the anticipation build before leaning into the microphone.

“Let us welcome back our lovely Aces of Hearts… The delicate Sullyoon! The sweet Eunha! The enchanting Hanni! And of course, the one who holds them all in her embrace… the one and only Queen of Hearts, Yoona!”

From Table Five, only one man stepped forward, just as the screen had promised. He walked up the stairs slowly, carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket as if approaching an altar, before stopping just short of the chair set in the center of the stage.

“It is an absolute honor, Sakura-ssi,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle as he bowed his head to the goddess before him. “I’m such a big fan. I’ve admired you for so many years.”

Sakura reached back and untied her blindfold, letting the silk drop to the floor. She paused to admire the view, her gaze slowly dragging over his sharp suit before a gentle smile bloomed on her face.

“Your Majesty,” she replied softly, pressing her palms flat against his chest to guide him backward until he sank helplessly into the chair. “The honor is entirely mine.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, not even blinking once. “You’re just so perfect—”

She captured his tongue without hesitation. It wasn’t a forced kiss, but it was deep and sensual, clearly a reward for his devotion.

They moved together so seamlessly that it looked like a movie scene, right up until she finally pulled away, leaving a glossy shine of saliva across his lips under the stage lights.

“You’re a good kisser,” she said shyly. “I got lucky tonight.”

With a soft exhale, she dropped to her knees, dragging his hands down with her and resting them on her shoulders.

“I want to kiss you here too,” she whispered, keeping her eyes locked with his, as if they were tethered to one another. “Can I?”

“Of course,” he said, heaving from anticipation. “Anything you want.”

“Make sure you serve a King who cherishes us properly, Sakura-ssi,” a velvety voice purred from the dark.

Sakura bit her bottom lip playfully. “Yes, sunbae-nim,” she said, turning her head.

Yoona stepped into the light, her red dress flowing around her ankles while a golden crown gleamed brightly atop her head. She knelt right beside Sakura on the floor, and with practiced, feminine grace, unzipped the man’s trousers, freeing his already throbbing length.

He gasped, eyes darting between the two of them. “I-I thought Queens weren’t part of the show—”

Yoona’s smile alone was enough to silence him.

“Queens can do whatever they want,” she said, simply.

“Thank you, my Queen…” the man whispered, his chest heaving with a mix of lust and profound respect. “I adore all of you…”

Yoona just looked across his lap, catching Sakura’s eyes as they shared a soft, almost telepathic smile—a quiet, mutual understanding of exactly what they were about to do to him before they both leaned in.

“Nice and slow,” she murmured, leaning in to run her tongue slowly up one side of his shaft while Sakura mirrored her on the other. “Just like we always practiced.”

Their heads bobbed in perfect unison as they shared him completely, moving with care, their tongues swirling around the head and shaft, trading saliva and soft, muffled moans. Every few seconds, Sakura would pull back just enough to press a gentle kiss to Yoona’s lips right over him, sharing his taste before diving back in.

The King let his head fall back against the velvet chair, a long, shaky sigh escaping his throat. His fingers tangled lovingly in their hair, gently stroking it instead of pushing them down.

“You’re both so good…” he whispered, his voice overwhelmed with emotion. “This must be what heaven feels like…”

“Only for you, Your Majesty,” Sakura answered, looking up at him with large, adoring eyes as she gently squeezed the base. “We’re yours tonight. All of us.”

Somewhere from the darkness then came Sullyoon, crawling up from behind the velvet chair. Her skin practically glowed under the lights, appearing as pristine and vibrant as a fairy stepping out of a dream. Her hair fell in perfect, silky waves over her shoulders, and her lips held a flawless, rosy tint that completely masked the exhaustion of the night.

The King tilted his head back to look at her, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You look radiant, Sullyoon-ssi,” he murmured, a genuine sense of awe in his tone. “It’s as if your earlier round never even happened.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I had a lot of time to rest.” Sullyoon smiled sweetly as she presented a single blue pill between her fingertips. “Would you like to extend your pleasure with us?”

He parted his lips without hesitation, allowing her to place it directly onto his tongue with hers.

“I saw there were other colors earlier on another stage,” he said, and swallowed it dry as she delicately traced his jawline with her finger. “Why only the blue one?”

Yoona briefly pulled off his shaft. “The House of Hearts only uses pleasure pills, Your Majesty,” she explained smoothly. “We have no need to artificially manufacture stamina or lust here.”

“It’s the only pill you need,” Sullyoon said with a soft giggle. “Even kisses will feel good. Let me show you.”

The King let out a soft, appreciative exhale as she leaned further over the backrest, her breasts pressing flush against his neck as she tilted his chin up, crashing her mouth against his to swallow his eager groans. Their tongues tangled messily as saliva pooled between their lips.

Beneath them, Sakura and Yoona continued their worship, the wet slurps and suction of their mouths perfectly complementing the sloppy sounds of the kiss above.

The stage seemed to soften around them as Hanni and Eunha gracefully made their way across the floor, moving like royal handmaidens, their bare skin catching the warm light as they came to kneel gently on either side of his velvet chair.

“Master,” Hanni said, her voice light and melodic as they looked up at him with bright, adoring eyes. “Can we kiss you too?”

He breathed softly, breaking his kiss with Sullyoon just long enough to reach out and lovingly cup their cheeks. But as his hand found Eunha’s face, his thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, a sympathetic frown forming on his lips.

“Are you alright, my sweet Eunha?” he whispered, his tone dropping into a cradle of genuine concern. “Those girls were so incredibly cruel to you earlier. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Eunha melted into his palm, a fragile, beautiful smile blooming on her face. “I’m perfectly fine now, Your Majesty,” she hummed, turning her head just enough to press a warm, grateful kiss against his palm. “You’re so sweet for asking.”

Both girls then leaned in delicately to unbutton his shirt, pressing soft, loving kisses against his chest. Their warm tongues darted out, swirling gently around his nipples with a teasing rhythm as he let his head fall back against Sullyoon’s breasts, completely melting into their tender care.

“Sakura-ssi,” Yoona suggested softly, pulling her tongue off the base of his length. “Why don’t you show him your special skill now?”

Sakura smiled affectionately, gazing up at the King through her eyelashes. “Not a lot of people know about this, Your Majesty,” she whispered, her tone playful and sweet. “Let’s keep it our secret, okay?”

Leaning in, she opened her mouth and swallowed his entire length in one smooth, flawless glide. She buried her face into his lap, her throat flexing as she took him incredibly deep, maintaining a wet, steady rhythm without a single gag. The King gasped, his hips instinctively bucking upward as he felt the tight, warm squeeze of her throat massaging him.

“My god… that’s incredible,” he breathed in awe, his fingers gently caressing her hair as he melted into the velvet chair.

After a few more devastatingly deep plunges, she slowly pulled back with a soft pop, leaving him completely coated in her saliva.

“I’ve been practicing something else lately, too,” she murmured, resting her chin delicately on his thigh. “Is it okay if show you?”

It was like he was completely captivated by her eyes and could only offer a weak, ecstatic nod.

Sakura smiled naughtily and nodded at Hanni and Eunha, who instantly dropped from his chest to gently grab his ankles. With careful elegance, they pulled his legs wide open and hoisted them up over the velvet armrests.

They seamlessly took over his length, burying their faces into his lap to lovingly suck his shaft and head with eager enthusiasm while Sakura ducked lower beneath them. She delicately cupped his balls, pulling them into her mouth and swirling her tongue around the skin before trailing her warm kisses further down.

“O-oh, wow…” he whimpered.

She pushed her face right between his thighs, her tongue diving beautifully into the crease, licking him with an eager, unapologetic passion that made him arch his entire spine off the cushion.

“God—wow—you—”

He let out a breathless groan, tilting his neck up to capture Sullyoon’s soft tits, as if to silence himself. She smiled as he sucked eagerly on her nipple, pulling out a sweet, melodic sigh from her mouth while Hanni and Eunha worked together in absolute harmony, their lips sliding up and down his shaft. Beneath them, Sakura’s tongue continued to push deep, exploring his lower body with an intimate, eager rhythm, making his toes curl into the velvet fabric of the chaise.

“Wait. Please… stop for a moment…”

He gently nudged Sullyoon back just enough to catch his breath, looking down at the tangled, gorgeous arrangement of stunning women worshipping him.

“Let me return the favor,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto Sakura with total adoration. “Please. I want to taste you.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” she replied obediently.

Sakura simply smiled as she pulled back, but before she could move, the King reached down and lifted her directly into his arms in one single motion as if she was weightless. He held her closely, pressing a deep, passionate kiss against her lips, letting out a soft, grateful hum before he gently laid her down onto the dark mat.

Her chest heaved softly, her bare legs spreading wide to expose her glistening entrance to the blinding lights. The King immediately dropped to the floor between her thighs and buried his face entirely in her wetness, groaning into her as he tasted her nectar.

“You’re so perfect, Sakura-ssi,” he murmured against her folds, eagerly slurping as he licked her with the same devotion she had just given him.

But he wasn’t alone.

“Let’s all worship Kkura-sunbaenim today,” Sullyoon whispered softly with a sweet smile. “She looks so pretty like this.”

She gracefully crawled over to Sakura’s sprawling body, with Hanni and Eunha immediately following right behind her. The three of them descended upon her like a gentle wave of love. They kissed her neck, tenderly sucked on her breasts, and ran their hands all over her trembling thighs. Serving their High Ace right alongside the King, their tongues traced the soft skin of her flawless body, mixing their sweet, lovely moans into a single, overwhelming chorus.

The edges of the room melted away again as the drugs pulsed through my veins. Time lost its meaning, the stage blurring into a continuous loop of gleaming skin and pink lips.

When my eyes managed to focus, the King was flat on the mat, entirely surrendered to them. Sakura had shifted her position, maneuvering herself directly over his face. He eagerly lifted his neck to lap at her wetness, slurping with the same hunger as before. On either side of her, Hanni and Eunha crawled in close, their tongues darting out to lick and suck at Sakura’s nipples, pulling soft, airy moans from her throat. Down below, Sullyoon positioned herself between his sprawling legs, taking his entire length deep into her mouth, bobbing her head in a steady, rhythmic worship.

The scene shifted like water changing containers, a fluid, graceful rotation that almost seemed habitual: Sakura, Eunha, and Hanni kneeling between his thighs, two of them dragging their tongues up and down the sides of his shaft while the third licked his balls, pausing only to crash their lips together in a sloppy, tangling three-way kiss as their saliva dripped onto his skin for Sullyoon to then devour along with his cock.

The next time I blinked, the King was standing up, his chest heaving as Sakura dropped to her knees, taking him entirely down her throat with absolutely zero effort. Behind him, Sullyoon knelt with her face between his cheeks, swirling her tongue into him while her melodic moans vibrated into his skin. Above, Eunha pressed her soft body flush against his front, capturing his mouth in a deep, dripping kiss with Hanni kneeling at his side, lapping at his nipples.

Eventually, his legs gave out, and he collapsed flat onto his back against the padded mat. But the girls didn’t let him rest; they took turns climbing over his hips, riding him with intoxicating grace. As Sakura bounced on his lap, leaning back and gasping at the ceiling, Sullyoon straddled his face, spreading her juices over his face and smearing them across his chin. Meanwhile, Eunha and Hanni stole their lips, all four of them worshipping each other just as much as they worshipped him.

The scene changed again. The King laid Sakura on her back, driving into her splashing pussy with slow, passionate thrusts. At his head, Sullyoon and Hanni leaned in to trap his mouth in that same signature three-way kiss, while Eunha positioned herself directly over Sakura’s face, grinding her hips back and forth.

I blinked again, and when my vision cleared, the King had pulled Sakura onto her hands and knees. He thrust into her from behind, the red collar a stark contrast against her flushed, sweat-drenched neck while she arched her spine upward, turning to secure his lips in a messy, eager kiss. Just below them on the dark mat, Sullyoon and Eunha were beautifully tangled together, their legs draped over one another’s shoulders as they buried their faces deeply between each other’s thighs. Beside their tangled bodies, Hanni crawled beneath Sakura’s arched frame, tilting her head up to lovingly latch onto her breasts, pulling and sucking at the soft nipples.

They shifted again and again, their voices melting together into a beautiful, overwhelming song of breathy sobs and cries of pure ecstasy. Sakura crawled forward, burying her face between Sullyoon’s thighs as the King relentlessly pounded into her from behind, every heavy slap of his hips met with a desperate, melodic harmony of moans. Behind him, Eunha parted his cheeks, burying her tongue into his hole with every thrust of his hips, her own muffled squeals of pleasure syncing perfectly with the chaotic rhythm of the stage.

“God—I’m going to—” he cried, his voice tearing raw against the heavy air.

Sakura instantly pulled away from Sullyoon and spun around, dropping to her knees to take him entirely down her throat just as his hips locked.

My skull pounded violently. The borrowed time I had was nearing its end.

The last thing my fading vision registered was Sakura pulling away, thick white liquid dripping from her swollen lips, before passing the load into Sullyoon’s waiting mouth. Hanni and Eunha immediately swarmed them, desperately swapping the cum between the four of them, their voices and giggles overlapping in a chaotic, needy chorus.

“Your Majesty, can you fuck us too?”

“Please, I want to come, too.”

“Me too, pretty please?”

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

“Our next High Ace is a true veteran of the Auction, a diamond that shines brighter than the sun itself,” the Dealer announced, pacing the edge of the spotlight. “A precious gem cut under pressure, honed by years of service. Her discipline is absolute. Her loyalty, unwavering. Her value, beyond dispute. This will be her fifth Blackjack Auction, and believe me when I say—she has only grown more brilliant with time.”

The crowd’s murmurs turned into a low, hungry roar as a tall, breathtaking figure stepped into the light. Tzuyu walked with a cold, untouchable elegance, her red collar catching the harsh beams like shattered glass scattered across her throat.

“Please welcome the High Ace of Diamonds—Tzuyu of Twice!”

The room erupted in a way it never had for the House of Diamonds before, a wave of cheers washing over the stage like a spotlight of sound.

“My dear,” the Dealer purred, stopping beside her and tilting the microphone toward her lips. “Your reputation is a force to be reckoned with in these halls. Your talents remain unchallenged after all these years. Tell me, what do you intend to carve into the memories of our esteemed guests tonight?”

Tzuyu answered without hesitation, her voice smooth and devoid of warmth. “For years, the House of Diamonds has served as the standard that others only hope to mirror,” she answered confidently. “True power stems from accepting that, ultimately, you possess nothing beyond your own desires. Many have tried and failed to relinquish their stubborn pride. Surrender to us, and be rewarded. Submit entirely, and we will serve you until you forget your very name.”

“You heard her, folks!” the Dealer roared, throwing his arms wide as the bidding screen lit up. “Who here dares submit to the House of Diamonds?!”

BIDDING OVER Tzuyu ♦ Results: [Team 5] 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) [Team 6] 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) Total points: 4 🅹 (₩1,200,000,000)

“A dead tie!” the Dealer laughed, spinning on his heels. “Which means, by our sacred laws, we immediately enter… Sudden Death!”

The audience roared, a mix of furious greed and primal excitement as the screens flashed again, loading the next set of bids in real-time.

Sudden Death: [Team 5] 10 + 9 + 10 + 7 = 36 pts [Team 6] 9 + 9 + 8 + 10 = 36 pts Sudden Death points: 72 (₩720,000,000)

“Another tie!” a woman shrieked from one of the elevated booths. “They’re matching each other card for card!”

“Thirty-six points each! We haven’t seen a bloodbath like this in years!” the Dealer howled, clutching his microphone as the crowd descended into absolute chaos. VIPs were leaning over their tables, shouting obscenities and placing side bets on who would break first. “But the Auction demands a single victor! We enter Sudden Death Round Two! Show us your hands!”

The hall held its collective breath as the massive screens zeroed in on the final two active tables. At Table Five, the silence was deafening. The guests sat frozen, staring at their hands.

Right next to them, Table Six watched the screen with predatory satisfaction. There was no celebration; they all just smirked as they slid their last card into the slot.

Sudden Death 2: [Team 5] OUT OF CARDS [Team 6] 2 + 4 + 2 + 2 = 10 pts Sudden Death points: 10 (₩100,000,000) Final points: 202 (₩202,000,000)

“And there you have it!” the Dealer shouted, his voice echoing over the thunderous applause and bitter groans of the defeated. “Team Six secures the magnificent High Ace of Diamonds! A historic victory built on absolute ruthlessness! Show us your face cards!”

Team 6 x Tzuyu: x3 Ace x2 King ((78+104+80)/2) +40) (₩3,730,000,000)

“Well, would you look at that,” he snickered, his voice dropping to a diabolical register. “Let us welcome back… the entire House of Diamonds.”

The girls stepped into the spotlight together, moving with a terrifyingly confident grace. Arin and Jiheon fell perfectly into step on either side of Tzuyu, with Xiaoting completing the tight formation right behind them. The four of them stood tall, accompanying their High Ace like a squad of royal guards, their respective diamond collars catching the harsh stage lights.

Then the four Kings from Table Twelve dragged themselves up the steps. The contrast was jarring. They were older, some rather thick around the middle, their expensive suits stretched over sloppy posture. They reeked of dark liquor and entitlement even from where I was. There was no polite bow, no formal greeting.

“Look at this,” the first King sneered, adjusting his mask. “All this money, and they just stand there like statues. You’d think they’d be begging on their knees to suck us off already.”

Xiaoting’s jaw tightened. She took a half-step forward, her chin tilting up in defiance. “Watch your tone. The House of Diamonds never begs.”

He let out a wet, ugly laugh. “You don’t beg? We just dropped three billion won on this table. You’re nothing but high-priced whores wearing shiny jewelry.”

Arin moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Xiaoting. “You bought thirty minutes of our time on stage,” she corrected. “Try to remember you are in a high-class establishment, assuming you even know what class means.”

The third King took an aggressive step forward. “Oh shut up, sweetheart. We paid for your mouth, but not to hear you speak.”

Jiheon let out a sharp, mocking scoff from Xiaoting’s other side. “Then you should have stayed at whatever shady back-alley club you crawled out of. You clearly came to the wrong place.”

The second King scoffed, stepping right in front of her. “Is that right? But we own you for the next thirty minutes, so I think you’ll do exactly what we tell you to do.” He reached out, his thick fingers grabbing her chin roughly.

Jiheon didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed with a cold, piercing look of disgust.

Tzuyu stepped between them, smoothly batting the King’s hand away from Jiheon’s face. She didn’t look angry—in fact, she looked utterly, terrifyingly calm.

“Kneel,” she ordered, simply.

The King stared at her, blinking in sheer disbelief before a booming laugh erupted from his chest. “Excuse me? Are you talking to me, you dumb bitch?”

“I said, kneel,” Tzuyu repeated, not raising her voice by a single decibel. “You are standing on our stage. You will show us respect.”

“I think you’ve got this backwards,” the third King said, stepping forward, trying to intimidate her with his height, even though he was barely taller. “You’re the one wearing the collar. You kneel.”

“Diamonds don’t kneel to cheap replicas,” a voice echoed from the back of the stage. “Not now, not ever.”

The Queen of Diamonds hadn’t moved from her throne, but her voice commanded the entire room. It was icy, carrying a heavy, threatening weight that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The first King turned toward the darkness, a nasty smirk spreading beneath his mask. “Are you sure about that, Your Highness? Because we paid a fortune for this round. And we want it to go exactly as we requested.” He turned to the audience, throwing his arms out as if addressing a coliseum. “We want everyone to dominate the High Ace tonight! We want her treated like the filthy slut she is! We want the other three Aces to use her, just to show the world what true power looks like!”

The room erupted. Men howled and cheered from the darkness, slamming their hands on the tables, feeding into their insane demands.

“Absolutely not,” the Queen replied, her voice snapping like a whip. “You do not get to treat any of my girls like a common whore. You will follow our rules, or the round is over before it begins.”

“Is that so?” the second King challenged, crossing his arms. He looked past the stage, directly toward the throne hidden in the shadows. “Hey, King of Diamonds! Are you going to let your Queen ruin the show we paid for? Is this what your House stands for? Defiance? Mistreatment of your guests? We are the Kings tonight!”

The entire ballroom held its breath, waiting for his reponse.

After a moment, a deep, distorted voice finally crackled through the curtains, “Let’s see how it plays out.”

The Queen surged to her feet, the heavy scrape of her heels against the stage floor cut through the dead silence.

“No. I will not allow this.”

“They paid for the table, my Queen,” the King’s voice droned back, casually dismissing her authority in front of thousands of spectators. “Our House honors its highest bids.”

“Not this one.” She marched down the steps, her steps clicking like gunshots. “If you allow these pathetic, unwashed pigs to lay a single hand on my Aces, I will toss this crown into the fire.”

My chest tightened until it physically hurt. The air in the room suddenly felt impossibly heavy, suffocating me. Like the entire room was standing on a landmine.

The four Kings at the front just smirked, feeding off the chaos. “Look at her,” the first King mocked, adjusting his belt. “Thinking she actually has a say in what we bought.”

Before the Queen could retaliate, Tzuyu moved.

She stepped perfectly into the center of the spotlight; her gorgeous silhouette blocked the harsh glare, casting her in a flawless, untouchable light. Even surrounded by wolves, she looked completely at peace.

“My Queen,” she said serenely. “It’ll be okay.”

The Queen stopped, her shoulders visibly tense, rising and falling under the expensive red fabric of her gown. “Chou Tzuyu, step down. I will not let them—”

“You taught us what is to be a diamond,” Tzuyu interrupted, her tone still soft but absolute. “From the very first day they fastened that pink collar around my neck, it was you who shaped me. It was you who built the women standing here today.”

She reached up, her long fingers brushing the heavy jewels of her collar. “You taught us that Diamonds are never afraid. That we are resilient. That we don’t break under pressure. That we are forged by it.”

Tzuyu slowly turned her head back to the four men panting at the edge of the stage. Her expression was somehow completely empty—an insanely beautiful, but absolutely terrifying void.

“I know men exactly like you,” she said, her voice so cold it could freeze the air in the room. “You buy your way through life and think your riches make you gods. You think money equals power. But you don’t fit into this world at all. You just rent space in it.”

“Sunbaenim, please don’t do this,” Jiheon pleaded from behind her. “Don’t let them break you.”

“Let them try,” Tzuyu stated perfectly, her voice echoing through the silent ballroom. “There’s not enough money in this world to make us shatter.”

The Dealer finally stepped out from the shadows, a thin, amused smile playing on his lips. “My my my,” he murmured, offering her a slow, solitary clap. “Truly—I’m moved. High Aces are all just rebels at heart, aren’t they? Folks, this will be one hell of a performance, that’s for sure.”

“I accept their request,” Tzuyu said firmly, turning to face him.

The audience ate it up. Someone screamed her name like it was a bet. Someone else shouted something obscene, and the people around them howled, slapping the table hard enough to rattle glasses.

“You heard her folks, let the performance… begin!”

Behind the curtain line where the light couldn’t reach, something heavy hit the floor—a sound like gold against hardwood, an unmistakable clink followed by the sound of something rolling until it faded into nothingness.

“Your speech was both insulting and touching at the same time,” the first King said, grabbing Tzuyu by the shoulders and violently shoving her to the padded mat. “On your hands and knees. Now.”

Tzuyu hit the floor hard, but she caught herself, pushing up into a steady position on all fours. Her face remained perfectly composed, but the sudden submission sent a shockwave of sick excitement through the men.

The Kings laughed like they’d just won something.

“Look at her,” the second King taunted, already undoing his belt. “The famous Rim Queen. We saw your earlier rounds, you Diamonds are so proud of making everyone else fall apart. Let’s see how you handle it when it’s your turn.”

He stepped in close behind her, his hands clamping onto her hips. Tzuyu’s fingers curled against the mat, but she didn’t pull away.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, High Ace?” he sneered, leaning down, his mask almost brushing her ear. “You said it yourself. Let them try.”

“That’s right, I agreed to the round,” Tzuyu said, her voice still hauntingly steady. “Not because you own me. Because Diamonds don’t run.”

“But do they fold?” one of them asked, causing the others to erupt in a chorus of mocking whistles.

The Kings moved in, circling her—one at her side, one near her shoulders, one hovering at her hip—as if they were cornering her even though she wasn’t actually trying to escape. Their hands landed all over her body, gripping just a little too tight, like they were trying to test her limits.

“Listen to her,” one of them laughed, fingers brushing her thighs. “Our brave little Diamond. Moaning like a good girl for her audience.”

“I’m not moaning,” she muttered, though her breath was hitching now.

“So tough,” he mocked, dragging his palm slowly up the back of her leg before smacking her outer thigh. The sound cracked through the room; a bright pink imprint immediately bloomed on her skin. “But you secretly love this, don’t you? The whole room watching you on all fours, showing a side of you no one’s ever seen before.”

He continued spanking her, and Tzuyu’s back arched, her shoulders rolling as the sensations hit one by one. A sound finally left her; a breathy, undeniable moan that caused the crowd to react instantly. A wave of feral noise crashed over the stage—cheers, whistles, disgusting chants I couldn’t even pick apart.

“Show your hoobaes who you really are,” the King growled, spreading her legs apart to admire the view.

Without warning, he buried his face directly into her cheeks. Tzuyu gasped, her spine snapping into a sharp curve as his tongue dove deep into her. The other three Kings swarmed her, grabbing her hips and thighs to hold her in place as they took turns taking vicious, sloppy laps at her hole.

“What’s this? You’re howling,” they taunted between wet slurps, hands cracking against her other thigh. “You love it, don’t you? You love getting eaten out like a dog.”

Tzuyu didn’t respond with words. Instead, another loud, broken moan escaped her lips, echoing through the speakers like a confession of her body’s betrayal.

“Get the others over here,” the first King barked. “We paid for them, too.”

Arin and Xiaoting crept forward like they were walking through a dream, their eyes glazed and heavy, their movements fluid but detached from reality. Their cheeks were flushed a deep, bruised pink, and as they stood over the sight of Tzuyu, their thighs pressed together in a restless, unconscious rhythm.

But as Jiheon tried to follow, two other Kings intercepted her, catching her by the wrists.

“Not you,” one of them sneered, his gaze crawling over her with a bitter hunger that made my stomach turn. “We want you all to ourselves, brat. You deserve to be punished for what you did to our Europrean friends earlier.”

They pulled her toward the other side of the stage, leaving Arin and Xiaoting alone in front of Tzuyu’s exposed, trembling body displayed on all fours.

“Use these on her,” a King commanded, his voice dripping with a sick glee as he dropped two silicone vibrating dildos onto the mat. “Make her take every inch.”

Arin’s fingers trembled as she reached down to wrap her hand around the toy. “There’s no way we can do this to her,” she murmured. “She’s our sunbae.”

“Do it,” Tzuyu whispered from the floor, her eyes glassy, empty, but perfectly confident. “Diamonds don’t shatter, Arin-ah.”

The hesitation didn’t break all at once; it melted slowly, like glass under a flame. Arin stared down at the thick silicone in her small hand buzzing loudly as she flipped the switch. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

“Diamonds don’t shatter,” she repeated to herself, swallowing hard.

Her eyes darted from the toy to Tzuyu’s exposed, glistening folds, and a dark flush crept up her neck. It was as if the sheer taboo of it, the unthinkable act of degrading her own High Ace, seemed to seep into her bloodstream like a drug—or worse, a curse: the curse of being in the House of Diamonds. The lust for power, no matter who it was over.

“Sunbaenim… Did you know… your pussy is so pretty…” Arin whispered, stepping closer, her thighs practically glued together.

She aligned the blunt tip against Tzuyu’s entrance, her lips parting as she watched the silicone slide past the wet folds. “I’ve… always wanted to play with it.”

Tzuyu’s back arched, a soft, strangled sound catching in her throat as Arin pushed deeper. “It’s so big…”

“It’s not that big, you’re just really tight…” Arin’s grip tightened; a dark, intoxicating curiosity flooded her face, quickly replaced by a heavy, undeniable lust. She began to pump the toy, her movements finding a slow, merciless rhythm.

“You’re already so wet,” she murmured, rubbing her own clit with her other hand. “You’re swallowing the toy whole.”

“A-Arin—not so fast,” Tzuyu moaned, lowering her head.

“You control it then, sunbae…” Arin suddenly pulled Tzuyu’s body upright, forcing her to ride the thick, plastic shaft while the Kings watched in sick fascination.

“The Queen left us,” Xiaoting said, dropping to her knees. The cold perfection she usually carried was completely gone, replaced by a feverish hunger. “Only you can teach us now. Show us how to ride a cock, sunbae, just like the old days.”

She hovered over Tzuyu’s trembling body for just a second, her breath brushing over her bare skin, then buried her face right between her jiggling cheeks. Tzuyu was already slowly bouncing on the thick dildo, her knees spread wide as she pushed herself down on it with loud, messy slaps.

“Look at you taking the whole thing like a pro,” Arin teased, leaning in closer. “Tell Pink to use her tongue, sunbae.”

“Xiaoting-ah, please...” Tzuyu whined, her thighs shaking as she forced the toy deeper into her dripping pussy. “L-lick me.”

Xiaoting didn’t answer; her tongue darted out, swirling against Tzuyu’s other hole with a wet, careful slurp that made her shriek, her back arching hard enough to completely throw off her rhythm.

“Keep going,” Xiaoting mumbled against her flesh, letting out a muffled moan of her own right before pressing the other vibrator directly over her clit.

Tzuyu choked on a sharp gasp, her hips stuttering as the vibration sent what seemed like pure shock through her body. “Oh my god, wait—both at once is too much—”

“Don’t stop riding it,” Arin ordered, a dirty smile crossing her face as she watched the mess unfold. “Keep bouncing. Show us what a good little slut you are, sunbae.”

“Listen to her,” Xiaoting agreed, her lips wet with Tzuyu’s taste. “Take it all, sunbae. We want to learn from you.”

Xiaoting’s hands gripped Tzuyu’s hips tightly, locking her in place so she couldn’t squirm away from the intense buzzing. She pulled Tzuyu’s ass deeper into her mouth as if she were starving for the taste of her submission, relentlessly eating her out while Tzuyu sobbed, hopelessly grinding her soaked pussy against the dildo to follow their commands.

A King stepped directly in front of Tzuyu’s face, his hardened cock twitching with excitement. She didn’t even wait for an order—she opened wide, her lips stretching to engulf his thick cock, sucking him with a submissive need. The stage lights caught the violent shimmer of the diamonds around their necks as her own Aces thoroughly dismantled her dignity.

Off to the side, Jiheon was getting absolutely dominated, but for some reason, she appeared to be loving every second of it. The two Kings had flipped her completely upside down, one of them shoved his cock entirely down her throat while she dangled by her ankles, and the other hammered his shaft deep into her soaking pussy. But instead of fighting it, she was practically vibrating—her eyes were wide, taking in the harsh treatment like the sheer humiliation was unlocking some sick, submissive side of her she never knew existed.

Even while gagging around a thick dick, her gaze kept darting over to the other girls. She watched Tzuyu sobbing and bouncing on the dildo while Xiaoting pleasured her, and the sight of it seemed to make Jiheon’s own juices pour down the King’s cock, like she was getting off just from watching her High Ace get used.

“You’re so fucking tight,” one of the Kings said, delighted. “What an incredible pussy.”

“You’re not even good at sex,” she taunted, a dark smile invading her lips. “Just hurry up and come so I can join the real show.”

“What the fuck did you say?” he growled, grabbing her throat.

She just laughed, eyes slightly rolling. “I said you’re terrible at fucking,” she repeated, despite him picking up the speed. “Even Arin unnie fucks me better with a strap-on than this.”

The Kings dragged her up to her feet, twisting her arms behind her back to lock her in place. One of them fucked her relentlessly from behind, his hands grabbing her hips to pull her into every brutal thrust, while the other grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open to spear her throat with zero mercy.

When he finally pulled out of her mouth so she could breathe, Jiheon let out a loud, wet gasp. Drool hung from her swollen lips, but she immediately nodded toward the other stage.

“Just let me go over there,” she whimpered, her legs shaking as the King behind her kept pounding her bare ass. “I want them to use me, too. Please, let me join them.”

The King holding her arms scoffed. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

“You’re not going anywhere, slut,” he growled, slapping his wet cock lightly against her cheek. “We’re nowhere near done with you yet. Open your fucking whore mouth.”

Tzuyu completely embraced the degradation, transforming into a hyper-submissive mess before my very eyes. She crawled over to the first King, eagerly sucking his bare toes, worshipping his feet before moving up to part his cheeks with her own hands.

“Let me demonstrate my famous talent on you,” she pleaded, licking him submissively, her tongue swirling deep in his hole while another King grabbed her hips and pounded her from behind.

Once again, the drugs in my system made the timeline blur, chopping the performance into visceral, overlapping scenes of absolutely sinful debauchery, where it quickly became unclear which side was in control.

In one blink, a King was flat on his back with his legs hoisted into the air with Tzuyu between his legs, her tongue diving deep into his ass while Arin eagerly sucked his cock. Above, Xiaoting squatted directly over his face, grinding her dripping wetness into his mouth.

“Lick me properly, King,” Xiaoting commanded breathlessly. “Taste every last drop. This is what you paid for.”

“F-fuck—” he cried, voice muffled and thighs trembling from the overloaded pleasure. “This feels too damn good!”

The lights flashed, and the formation shifted. Tzuyu bounced wildly on his lap, taking his full length while desperately stuffing two other cocks into her mouth. Right above her, Xiaoting rode his face, leaning forward to make out with Arin.

“Look at her choking,” one of the men laughed, grabbing Tzuyu by her neck, holding her in place. “She’s good with her mouth, but not her throat, I guess.”

In the next fractured second, my brain caught Jiheon getting tossed between her two Kings like a human doll. One of them had her by the hips, relentlessly pounding her from behind while the other grabbed her hair, aggressively shoving his dick in and out of her mouth. She wasn’t even trying to keep up anymore. She was completely losing her mind, her eyes rolled all the way back into her head with her tongue hanging out in a sloppy, drooling mess. She laughed like an absolute maniac around the thick cock, looking like a broken, brainless toy getting off on being entirely used up.

“You dumb slut,” the King behind her growled, the harsh smacks of his hips syncing with her muffled, delirious giggles. “Is everything a joke to you?”

“You’re so pathetic,” she squealed. “I don’t know why I’m coming so much for such a fucking loser though—aghh!”

Then, the stage rearranged again. A King was fucking Xiaoting hard from behind, her small body jerking forward as she sucked another cock on the opposite end. Tzuyu and Arin swarmed the one fucking her, making out with him while plunging their wet fingers into his ass.

“Deeper,” Arin ordered, her voice completely slurred with lust as she guided Tzuyu’s hand. “Fuck his tight little hole with your fingers, sunbae.”

My head spun as another King sat like a tyrant in the plush velvet chair. Tzuyu and Xiaoting were on their knees, sharing his thick cock, their mouths slurping together.

“Suck it together, you greedy sluts,” he groaned, his hands shoving their heads down.

Right behind Tzuyu, someone was eagerly slurping her backside while Arin straddled another man’s face a few feet away. Jiheon was now part of the main show, leaning over the back of the plush chair, making out with the seated King from above, completely helpless as a fourth King aggressively fingered her spot.

“Fuck, you’re making such a mess,” he laughed, burying his fingers deeper into her dripping cunt until her juices gushed out and splattered onto the floor.

The flashes of skin and sweat just kept coming. A King stood tall in the center of the stage. Arin captured his lips in a filthy kiss, Tzuyu bobbed her head on his shaft, Xiaoting sloppily licked his balls, and Jiheon crouched behind his legs to bury her face between his thighs.

“Sunbaenim, with respect, I think you could use some dick-sucking pointers from Jiheon,” Arin suggested against the King’s lips. “And maybe you can teach her how to properly do whatever the hell she thinks that is.”

As soon as he moaned in pleasure, Arin and Xiaoting pulled away to immediately apply the exact same treatment to another standing King.

“You and I are a better duo, aren’t we?” Xiaoting purred, her chin covered in spit.

“I’d say so,” Arin said, smirking. “Open up, Your Majesty.”

The final image burned into my retinas before the scene dissolved. Jiheon sat backward on a King’s face, completely smothering him under her jiggling ass.

“Come on, fuckface,” Jiheon taunted, grinding her hips down hard over his nose. “If you can’t fuck me properly, at least make out with both of my holes to compensate.”

Arin and Xiaoting surrounded her, violently making out with each other while getting fucked from behind by two other men.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re getting fucked like this,” Arin moaned directly into Xiaoting’s mouth as their wet lips crashed together. “Take it all like a good girl. Make our House proud, Pink.”

And right in the middle of the mess, Tzuyu rode the face-smothered King’s cock in a chaotic rhythm, bouncing to the sloppy rhythm of the entire stage. “My god, it’s so deep!” she shrieked, her thighs slapping wildly against his pelvis. “I’ve never had a dick this big before, I’m gonna co—”

The drugs hammered my brain, splicing the final moments into a frantic, dizzying montage of absolute surrender from both sides. The hesitation was entirely gone. Every single one of them was addicted to the power, the degradation, and the animalistic pace of the Kings.

The stage and the power shifted back and forth, over and over. All four Aces were lined up on their knees in perfect symmetry, each one deeply swallowing a thick cock as their heads bobbed in unison, their eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy, completely lost to the sensation of being utterly filled.

“Look at this,” one of the Kings growled, his hands tangled in Jiheon’s hair to hold her steady as she sucked him. “Everyone thinks the House of Diamonds is so classy and elegant. But underneath all that expensive jewelry, you’re really just a bunch of repressed cocksluts, aren’t you? You all just needed to be broken in properly and the truth comes out.”

A sharp whistle echoed from the audience, and the Kings roughly yanked them around. They slammed all four Aces onto their hands and knees, lining up their exposed asses in a row, driving into them from behind in an aggressive, synchronized pace. The wet, slapping sounds of skin colliding echoed through the night, pulling loud, breathy moans from the girls as they arched their backs to take it deeper.

“Fuck, you’re all so nice and tight,” another King panted, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in Tzuyu’s cunt. “Beg for it. Tell everyone what you actually are.”

“We’re your sluts, Your Majesty—” Xiaoting sobbed, face planted into her arms. “We’re no different from common cheap whores.”

Without pausing, the Kings grabbed their hips and forcefully pulled them backward. The four Aces seamlessly transitioned into riding them from above, bouncing wildly on the thick shafts, their rainbow assortment of diamond collars glinting under the harsh lights as they threw their heads back, completely surrendering to the brutal pace.

“I wonder what your Queen would say if she could see you right now,” a King laughed, grabbing Arin’s waist to force her down harder. “Would she be proud of how hard you’re bouncing on my dick? Taking it like a cheap street hooker?”

“She would be so ashamed of us,” Arin cried, her tits bouncing in sync with the other girls’. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, we’re all embarrassments to the House of Diamonds.”

The formation dissolved one last time. They were flipped onto their backs, their long slender legs hooked over the broad shoulders of the Kings. The men pounded into them mercilessly as the girls were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on the mat. In the middle of being completely destroyed, Tzuyu reached out, grabbing Xiaoting’s jaw to pull her into a desperate, messy kiss, and beside them, Arin and Jiheon tangled their tongues together, sharing their moans while the men relentlessly filled them.

“There you go,” a King commanded Jiheon, driving his cock deep into her soaking pussy. “Taste how much of a whore your sisters are.”

The scenes blurred into chaotic, isolated flashes. I caught a glimpse of Tzuyu riding a King hard in cowgirl, her mouth completely occupied by another thick cock. Across the stage, Xiaoting was pinned against an invisible wall of flesh, getting absolutely ravaged by two Kings while standing on her tiptoes. Nearby, Jiheon lay flat on the mat, her legs spread wide for a King plunging into her tight hole, while Arin squatted directly over her mouth, aggressively grinding her dripping cunt against Jiheon’s lips.

The roaring of the crowd reached a deafening pitch. One by one, the men yanked out of the girls’ drenched, sloppy, overused holes. They stood over the trembling, exhausted Aces, their hands working furiously over their shafts.

“Open up!” they commanded.

Thick, hot spurts of cum splattered across Tzuyu’s cheeks, coated Xiaoting’s lips, and painted Jiheon and Arin’s chests. The men emptied themselves entirely, leaving the girls completely covered in their disgusting lust.

The girls crawled toward each other like magnetic puzzle pieces. With the crowd screaming above them, Tzuyu, Xiaoting, Jiheon, and Arin collapsed together, eagerly licking the hot loads smeared across each other’s lips, cheeks, and chests. High-pitched, euphoric moans spilled from their lips, echoing through the massive ballroom as they swapped the thick, sticky mess from mouth to mouth, their tongues tangling wildly in aggressive, breathless kisses as they clambered over one another’s bare bodies. Loud, wet slaps of flesh and ragged gasps filled the air as they continued grinding their soaking folds together to extend their own pleasure, desperately chasing the high right there under the spotlight. They were entirely lost to the chaos, thrashing against each other until all four of them were covered in the exact same, undeniable proof of their betrayal and submission.

The House of Diamonds had fallen. And they had loved every single second of it.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

“Although we are but one round from the finale, the night is far from over!” the Dealer’s voice vibrated through the speakers, dragging me back from the edge of unconsciousness just enough to register his words. “We have witnessed the absolute devotion of the House of Hearts! We have witnessed the terrifying display of power in the House of Diamonds! But now, it is time to shift our focus to a different kind of perfection.”

The giant screens above flickered, and the bleeding red diamond dissolved into a stark black club.

“Our next High Ace is famous even within these halls,” the Dealer announced. “Her history in this Society is as legendary as they get. You see, before she became the undisputed face of the House of Clubs, she belonged to a different throne entirely.”

The crowd began to murmur, a low, buzzing anticipation that vibrated against the floorboards as my cheek pressed flat against the padded mat below me.

“That’s right! She was once the prized possession of the House of Spades,” the Dealer continued, drawing out the suspense. “The High Ace who reigned supreme, long before our lovely Karina ever wore the black collar. But in an unprecedented, historic trade, her position was forfeited for the beloved Jang Wonyoung herself!”

The applause that followed was deafening—a chaotic, hungry roar that rattled the bones in my chest.

“A true icon! A goddess of pleasure! Ladies and gentlemen! For the eighth consecutive year, please welcome the one and only High Ace of Clubs… Jennie of BLACKPINK!”

I forced my eyes open, just a fraction. Through the hazy, shifting lights, a slender silhouette stepped into the harsh white spotlight. She moved with a rather charming arrogance, seemingly unfazed by the animalistic frenzy she had just incited. Even through the fog drowning my brain, I could feel the suffocating weight of the lust in the room fixated entirely on her.

The Dealer stood silently for a moment, letting the weight of Jennie’s presence settle over the room. She didn’t even twitch; she just stood there with the black velvet collar snugly wrapped around her neck, breathing steadily and evenly as the wolves began to descend on her.

Finally, the Dealer raised a hand, his voice dropping into that low, thrilling whisper. “My dear, you are the last performance before our grand finale tonight. The audience is absolutely rabid for you. Do you have any words before we begin?”

Jennie tilted her chin up just a fraction. A small, chilling smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. “I don’t need to say anything. They already know what they’re paying for. I’ve proven it year after year that I am the entire package and more.”

The crowd lost its collective mind. Men slammed their fists against the tables, howling, while women chanted her name like a prayer.

“Then let the bidding begin!” the Dealer roared, his voice distorting in my ears like it was being played through a broken speaker. “Thirty seconds to claim the undisputed Goddess of Pleasure!”

BIDDING OVER Jennie ♣ Results: [Team 1] 10 + 9 + 10 + 9 = 38 [Team 4] 🅹 + 🅹 +🅹 + 🅹 (Winner!) [Team 7] 🅹 + 🅹 [Team 8] 🅹 + 🅹 Total points: 38 + 8 🅹 (₩2,780,000,000)

“It’s decided!” the Dealer shrieked, the sound piercing through my splitting headache. “Table Four claims the High Ace of Clubs! Tell me, gentlemen, how will you build your court? Will you summon the rest of her House as well?”

“Wait,” Jennie cut in, her voice smooth and authoritative.

“Yes, my dear?”

Her chin tilted toward the darkness where Team 4 sat. “Don’t play any aces,” she ordered. “My girls have been through enough tonight. Let them rest.”

Discourse rippled through the audience, but Jennie simply smirked at the impending chaos.

“Besides,” she purred, tracing a slow finger down her own collarbone. “This is my stage. I don’t share the spotlight with anyone. You emptied your wallets for me, so I expect all of your eyes strictly on me and me only.”

The men at Table Four immediately barked like actual dogs, practically foaming at the mouth in agreement.

“No Aces!” one of them shouted over the noise. “Just Kings and Jacks! All for Goddess Jennie!”

The giant screen flashed above, calculating the final math.

Team 4 x Jennie: x4 Jack x2 King (+120) (₩3,580,000,000)

My eyelids fluttered as the stage fast-forwarded and transformed like a glitched video. They didn’t waste any time—six men, two Kings in tailored suits and four naked, tall, muscular American Jacks, surrounded Jennie, immediately boxing her in.

“You really wanted all of us to yourself, didn’t you?” a younger Korean-American King murmured, his hands immediately finding her tits.

“I remember you,” Jennie whispered back, her blindfolded face tilting up to capture his lips in a deep, controlling kiss. “Don’t disappoint me this year.”

While their tongues tangled, a Jack stepped up behind her. “Goddamn, baby, you are as gorgeous as ever,” he muttered, his large hands trailing down her small waist to grab a handful of her ass. “It’s been too damn long.”

She let out a soft sigh as he squeezed her flesh possessively. “You missed me, didn’t you?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

“I miss your tasty pussy,” he corrected, giving her cheeks a loud smack. “But you? Well, I’m still debating that one.”

She smirked just before her lips parted again. “Asshole.”

“Oh yeah—I definitely missed your tight little asshole, too.”

He let one hand slide down the curve of her back and slipped right between her thighs. Jennie gasped into the King’s mouth as the Jack drove two thick fingers into her.

“Look at you,” the Jack laughed quietly, pumping in and out of her with a familiar, practiced rhythm that instantly made her knees wobble. “Already so wet. You love being surrounded by all these big dicks, huh?”

“Just like old times.” Another Jack moved in next to her, running his tongue along her ear. “We know exactly how you like it, Jennie.” He reached down to join the first Jack, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit while the other kept playing with her wet folds. “Hard, fast, and rough. Isn’t that right?”

Jennie let out an airy moan, arching her back directly into his chest. “Fuck... right there,” she chirped, practically handing herself over to the men who clearly knew her body inside and out.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you ready for a proper fucking now.”

They swarmed her entirely after that. The King broke the kiss only to suck on her tits, biting down just hard enough to make her whine. Another King dropped to his knees, burying his face directly over her crotch, his tongue swirling greedily against her small clit.

“God, you even taste like a whore,” he snickered, smacking his lips. “You dirty little slut.”

Her hands didn’t stay still; she reached out blindly, her fingers wrapping around the throbbing lengths beside her, stroking them firmly and carefully like they were trophies.

“I’m your favorite little slut,” she panted. “Now give me all your cocks. They’re all mine.”

“Come on, let’s get her up,” the tallest Jack commanded.

They grabbed her by the thighs, hoisting her entirely off the mat, and Jennie let out a loud gasp as she was suspended in the air.

“Open up for us, baby,” one of them purred, stepping right between her dangling legs.

He buried his face into her soaked entrance, lapping fervently at her dripping juices.

“Oh, fuck—yes, right there, just like that—” she moaned, her head falling back. “Fuck—I forgot how good you are.”

Another Jack stepped right behind her elevated body, his tongue diving in to lick her other hole with a sloppy enthusiasm.

“Fuck,” she gasped as they devoured her from both sides, their loud slurping echoing through the massive hall. “Keep going—don’t stop—”

They didn’t stop. If anything, they just dug in harder. She threw her head back, her thighs thrashing uncontrollably while they dove into her holes, soaking her with spit and devouring her so relentlessly she was borderline sobbing.

“Turn her over,” someone ordered. “Let’s see what her mouth can do nowadays.”

They flipped her completely upside down, draping her legs securely over their broad shoulders.

“Remind us, Jennie,” a Jack demanded, guiding his cock past her lips. “Word on the street is that the new High Spades is better at sucking dick than you.”

“Jang Wonyoung? She fucking wishes. I’ll believe it when I see it with my own eyes,” Jennie snarled, then took him in effortlessly, sucking him deep while hanging upside down.

Her blindfold slipped right off her face as her loud moans vibrated against his shaft. His lips crashed onto her clit, while the man behind her continued to bury his tongue between her cheeks.

My vision swam, the harsh white lights dragging into long, dizzying streaks as the men shifted her again. They passed her around like a ball, flipping her right-side up into the waiting arms of another King. He caught her waist and immediately dove into her qrenched cunt. Jennie adjusted flawlessly to the new position as if she was thoroughly familiar with it, leaning her upper body forward to swirl her tongue thoroughly around the large balls of the one holding her up.

Before I could even process what was happening, the Jack holding her fell flat onto his back, dragging her down on top of him so she was straddling his face upside down with her thighs locked around his head.

Jennie let out a loud, muffled whine, her mouth hovering right over his giant length as he went straight back to devouring her pussy.

“Don’t just look at it,” another Jack barked, stepping in close so his cock brushed against her cheek. “Open up.”

Her lips were wrapped around the bottom Jack’s head, but the other didn’t wait his turn—he simply shoved his own cock in right next to it, forcing her to let the first one slide out, just enough to drag her wet lips over the other, constantly swapping her mouth back and forth between them.

Beneath her, the bottom Jack reached up and spread her cheeks wide open, putting her on full display under the harsh lights for everyone to see.

“Look at this perfect little thing,” he mumbled, his voice vibrating right against her soaking folds and puckering asshole. “God, it’s so fucking cute. You’d never guess it could take such a pounding.”

A third guy stepped up behind her without saying a word, poured a bottle of lube over her ass. He immediately used two fingers to massage the dripping liquid in, pushing deep inside her tight hole while she whined around the large cocks.

Within seconds, everything was a blur of hands working her over; fingers slid deep into her ass right as more pushed up into her pussy, stretching her out completely. A loud, desperate whine escaped through her nose, her head bobbing relentlessly over the two cocks while they aggressively worked both of her holes from below.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees.”

They finally set her down. Jennie knelt on the mat, breathing heavily, eyes barely functional as three men crowded her face. She opened her mouth and took one cock deep down her throat, while her hands reached out to grab the other two.

“More… I want more cocks…” She moved in a continuous, mesmerizing circle, sucking one while stroking the others, rotating her attention so fluidly that no one was left waiting for her touch.

A King dropped onto his back beneath her. “Sit on me, baby,” he commanded, lifting her leg over his body. “Let me taste that nasty pussy of yours.”

She hovered over his face and chin without a word, grinding her overflowing wetness all over his skin, smearing her juices across his jaw while she kept her head bobbing on the cocks in front of her.

The men groaned in a chaotic chorus, fully intoxicated by her rhythm, clearly using her for their own pleasure—but somehow, it seemed like she was the one being rewarded.

“Now down on the floor,” a Jack commanded, grabbing her shoulders to pull her flat onto her back.

They swarmed her small body, effectively trapping her in a cage of muscle and sweat. One of them immediately shoved his face back between her thighs, while two more pressed their shafts against her lips. She opened wide, continuously sucking them with wet, greedy slurps, and the remaining men held her tightly, their hands kneading her small breasts, squeezing her thighs, leaving absolutely no part of her untouched.

“Look at how she takes it,” a Jack snickered. “You’re so fucking tiny, but you swallow us all.”

“Mine,” Jennie hummed around the cocks in her mouth, her face now slick with a collection of all their pre-cum, and her back arching eagerly into their possessive grips. “You’re all mine. You all belong to me.”

The edges of the room melted away again for a moment, and when my eyes refocused, they had hauled her back up onto her hands and knees. A King knelt behind her, burying his face into her ass, his tongue diving deep while she diligently sucked the Jacks standing in front of her. The sound of wet skin, heavy breathing, and shared saliva somehow overpowered all the hollers and cheers from the crowd.

Suddenly, one of the Kings stepped up behind her and gripped her hips with a crushing force, pulling her flush against his thighs.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he growled, lining himself up with her dripping slit. “I need to be inside you right fucking now.”

Without another warning, he thrust his hips forward, slamming himself completely inside her as Jennie threw her head back from the impact.

“Mmph!” she squealed.

He didn’t hold back. His hips snapped against her ass with loud, wet slaps. She moaned loudly, but the sound was quickly swallowed as a Jack shoved his thick cock directly into her mouth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted more dicks?” he taunted, shoving it all the way into her throat as she looked up at him with glossy eyes.

They took turns filling her up thoroughly. At some point, one of them grabbed her by the hips and yanked her backward, forcing her to straddle his lap. She rode him ruthlessly, bouncing hard on his length while her tongue kept furiously working the endless supply of cocks before her.

“Are you sure we belong to you?” the King beneath her ordered, his large hand wrapping firmly around her throat. “Or do you belong to us?”

He lifted her slightly by the neck, choking off her moans as he drove his hips upward, pounding deep into her pussy from below.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered, her juices splashing everywhere with every thrust. “I was wrong. I belong to you all. I was born to take your cocks.”

They laughed collectively. “Wow, it’s really true what they all say. Once a Spade, always a Spade?”

Two Jacks suddenly yanked her body upward, lifting her into their arms with her legs pinned to her shoulders, leaving her folds fully exposed and visibly dripping.

“Come on Jennie, say it proudly so everyone in the audience can hear,” one said, driving his fingers violently inside her, hooking upward to grind rough and hard against her spot.

“I’m just an overpriced sextoy,” she cried out to the men surrounding her, breaking apart while her hips desperately chased his rough fingers. “I’m simply a hole for you. All of you. Please use me well.”

“You have three of them,” a Jack corrected her, his voice cutting through the laughter. “And we intend to use every single one.”

“Yes, Master.” Her eyes rolled back until there was only a storm of white. “Use any and every hole to your liking.”

His fingers worked harder and faster, until she let out a wild, high-pitched noise as a stream started gushing out of her, drenching his hand while she thrashed against his grip.

“God, what a filthy bitch,” he laughed, shaking the liquid off himself. “I forgot she’s a squirter.”

Her body was still trembling when the King pulled her right on top of his lap, forcing her to straddle him. She sank down onto his cock, filling her drenched pussy to the base again, but her backside was completely exposed and totally defenseless as she rode him—which was exactly what the Jack was waiting for.

He walked right up behind her, and before she could even brace herself, he shoved his thick cock straight inside with little to no resistance. Jennie’s eyes widened, her spine snapping backward as her walls opened and wrapped tightly around his shaft. A collection of lust juices dripped down her thighs as the two of them started fucking her at the exact same time, pounding into her with an unsynchronized, messy rhythm that made her entire frame shake.

“Oh my god…” she cried, her voice as broken as her mind. “You’re filling me up… your humongous cocks… stretching my ass and my pussy out at the same time… I’m gonna break—”

“You’re already broken, whore,” a third Jack interrupted, walking right up to her face. He grabbed her by the chin and buried his hard cock straight over her tongue.

Her wild moans instantly turned into choked, sloppy sucking sounds. He just stood there using her throat, silencing her while the King and the other Jack continued stretching her holes together; the loud smacking of their hips hitting her thighs echoed through the room, perfectly matching the wet noises of her gagging on his cock.

When my eyes dragged themselves open again, the formation had mutated. They had flipped her onto her back; the King and Jack now ravaging her from below, lifting her slender legs over their broad shoulders as they hammered into both of her holes at the same time. Even fully stuffed, Jennie reached up to her own neck, wrapping her fingers around her throat as she choked herself.

“I’m such a bad girl…” she muttered, saliva leaking from her mouth as they all pumped mercilessly. “Bad girls deserve to be punished…”

The cock in her ass finally pulled out, and the King grabbed her waist and hoisted her into the air, using his own body as the only thing keeping her anchored. Two Jacks grabbed hers arms, pulling them wide, holding her suspended and helpless while a third fucked her in mid-air, his upward thrusts violently shaking her small frame while she moaned loudly for the entire room to hear.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god—” she cried, eyes rolling back as another hot rush spilled out like a geyser, trailing down his stomach and thighs as she let out a strangled scream, squirting helplessly while they held her wide open.

By the time I could focus again, they had thrown her back down onto the padded mat and pulled her hips high into the air, presenting her soaked, gaping holes to the audience. A Jack stood over her and drove straight down into her pussy with brutal force while one of the Kings straddled her head, lowering his balls and shaft directly over her mouth, riding her face while she slurped and gagged on him eagerly.

The stage lights flickered, leaving long, red afterimages burning behind my eyelids as the chaos shifted once again.

A Jack grabbed Jennie by the waist, flipping her roughly onto her stomach. The black velvet collar bit into her pale neck as she was shoved face-first onto the soft mat. Another King immediately dropped his knees directly in front of her, forcing his backside right over her lips. She didn’t hesitate, her tongue swirled out to eagerly lick him to the rhythm of the wet, slapping thrusts against her back.

“You love it, don’t you, you dirty little slut,” the Jack behind her sneered, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a bright red mark before plunging back in.

“I love it…” she whimpered, slurping and sucking the puckered hole. “I love it so much… I can’t get enough…”

My head swam, the drugs fighting to fully pull me under. Time passed and paused like the world around me was as broken as my own body. Their moans started sounding distorted, like a scratched record.

“I’m gonna come soon,” a Jack holding her jaw groaned loudly, his hands tangling ruthlessly into her hair. “Open up, bitch.”

“Give it to me,” she begged desperately, as if in a trance. “Give me all of your cum, please.”

They quickly swarmed the front of her; one by one, stroking themselves furiously, letting out ragged shouts as they emptied their thick loads straight into her mouth. She swallowed what she could, but the sheer volume was too much, and the hot, sticky liquid spilled past her lips in thick clots, dripping down her chin and pooling all over her flushed, sweat-drenched chest.

She collapsed onto the mat, her legs finally giving out beneath her.

But it wasn’t over.

Two Jacks pinned her arms high above her head while a King climbed over her, pounding into her pussy with desperate, shallow thrusts.

“Take it like a good little cum-dump, Jennie,” he growled, his hand wrapping around her small neck, groaning loudly before spilling his own release deep inside her thoroughly blown-out hole.

“…Paint my insides with your cum, Master…” she muttered with a satisfied smile, her voice slurring from exhaustion.

And before the first King even finished twitching, the next one took his place, thrusting into her cum-drenched body, causing it to spread across her skin like rain on a window, fusing with sweat and spit.

The remaining men stood over her, offering the last of their carnal lust as thick spurts of cum splashed across her broken face, coating her breasts, painting her stomach and thighs with white. They completely covered every inch of her tiny frame, leaving her twitching and breathless under the blinding lights.

The roar of the audience shattered whatever sanity I had left. My ears rang, the sickening smell of sweat and sex choking the last bit of air from my lungs before my vision caved again.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

The last suitcase went into the trunk with a final thud.

My father shook hands with the driver while my mother fussed over the crease in her coat, already mentally halfway to Singapore. The neighborhood sat quiet in the grey morning drizzle, the same streets I had walked a thousand times looking completely foreign to me now, like they were already starting to forget I existed.

I stood by the open car door, one hand on the roof, and looked back down the road one last time.

Still nothing. Just the rain and the empty pavement.

“Wonbin-ah, let’s go,” my mother said gently from inside the car. “There’s a lot of traffic to Incheon today.”

I didn’t move. My eyes stayed fixed on the far end of the street, on the corner Wonyoung always came sprinting around whenever she was late for school. I kept waiting for the sound of her sneakers slapping against the wet concrete. Her ponytail. Her voice yelling my name like I was already in trouble for something. Anything.

The driver closed the trunk.

“Son.” My father’s hand landed on my shoulder.

I finally ducked into the cab. The door shut behind me with a soft but devastating click.

As the car pulled away from the curb, I pressed my fingers against the cold window glass, watching the neighborhood shrink behind us. My eyes stayed locked on the corner of the alley, desperately holding onto a hope I knew I shouldn’t have had.

Then, right as we turned toward the main road, a small, lanky figure came sprinting around the corner. Her hair whipped frantically in the rain, her clothes completely soaked through. She chased straight after us, her sneakers slapping hard against the wet asphalt.

“Wonbin! Wait!”

The image cracked down the middle, splitting like broken glass as the suffocating warmth of the car dissolved into the horrible stench of sweat, sex, and despair and the rain on the window melted into blinding stage lights searing into my skull.

“Wonbin! Wonbin! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Wonbin!”

I could hear remnants of Wonyoung’s voice pierce through the endless haze as my consciousness dragged itself out of the dark, piecing the world back together little by little, sending me right back into the living hell of reality.

When the screens finally flickered back to life, they didn’t display a glowing gem or a beating heart. It was a massive, sharp spade, swallowing up the light from the room like a black hole. Goosebumps immediately flared up my arms, and a cryptic chill violently crawled up my spine as I lay flat on the floor, face pressed against the cold, unable to move even an inch.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Dealer’s voice echoed, now devoid of his usual theatrical mockery. “The moment has arrived at long last. We have reached the grand finale of the night.”

A single spotlight beamed down, cutting through the shadows.

Wonyoung stepped into it like a doll come to life, every movement practiced and perfect. The frantic, crying girl who had begged for Yujin just an hour ago was completely gone. She stood with a devastating, terrifying composure, her posture dangerously straight, even more so than normal. The black silk blindfold and the iconic black collar wrapped around her neck looked less like restraints and more like royal garments.

“You know her story well by now, my dear patrons,” the Dealer announced, pacing slowly around her flawless silhouette. “A most heartbreaking journey. A life for a life. A soul for a soul. A goddess forged in absolute darkness. A star amongst stars. Making her debut tonight as the new High Ace of Spades—it is my absolute honor to welcome Jang Wonyoung of IVE!”

The crowd didn’t just cheer; they lost their minds. I watched as a sea of billionaires shot out of their seats in slow motion, howling like feral animals in a deafening roar that shook the room like an earthquake.

I frantically scanned the sea of masked faces through the blinding glare, desperately searching for any lifeline left, but John, Sora, and the rest of them were nowhere to be found. Their half-finished drinks were still sitting on the glass table, but the seats were vacant.

A cold, horrifying realization ruptured in my stomach. They’d left because of Karina’s round. Because I messed everything up. My failure had cost them everything, and now I was entirely alone in the dark.

“My dear,” the Dealer purred, stepping close to her, tilting the microphone up. “On your path to glory, you have inadvertently stolen the valor of many—from your own sister An Yujin to the queen of the industry Jennie to even the great Karina herself. I’m sure many would say that no one deserves it more than you, but are there any words you’d like to share with our audience?”

Wonyoung tilted her chin up, a beautiful, hauntingly hollow smile gracing her plump red lips. “I have no use explaining myself,” she answered, her voice smooth, steady, and if you listened closely, almost resentful. “Your lips already speak my secrets and these walls already whisper my name to one another. Everything you’ve all heard and said about me is true.” She paused for just a second. “I am the High Ace of Spades. I’ve sacrificed everything and everyone to be here. You can sit in the dark and judge the choices I’ve made to survive, passing your moral sentence on a life you couldn’t possibly understand. Sure, do that.”

She took a slow, blind step toward the front of the stage. Even with the fabric covering her eyes, the way she tilted her head made it feel like she was staring down every single person in the room, judging them for their attendance.

“Or you can let me me show you what the absolute epitome of discipline creates. Let me prove to you why I alone am the true pride of the House of Spades.”

The audience exploded into primal screams of violent, angry lust and carnal worship.

It was like my nervous system completely short-circuited; my body physically rejecting the reality in front of me. She looked so hauntingly beautiful standing there on that stage, but no matter how flawless her face or how perfect her figure was, the reason she was there—the purpose of her existence for the night—was more than I could handle now that it was there right before my eyes.

I tried to scream her name. I tried to push myself up, to run to her, to do absolutely anything. But the drugs had severed the connection between my brain and my body and my vocal cords were completely paralyzed.

All that left my mouth was a pathetic, broken wheeze.

“Let the final war begin!” the Dealer shrieked, his voice piercing through my splitting skull. “Thirty seconds! For all the glory! For all the honor! For the High Ace of Spades!”

The screens above exploded into a chaotic blur of numbers.

BIDDING OVER Jang Wonyoung ♠ Results: [Team 1] 🅹 + 🅹 [Team 2] 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) [Team 3] 🅹 + 🅹 [Team 6] 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) [Team 10] 🅹 + 🅹 Total points: 14 🅹 (₩4,200,000,000)

“Fourteen Jokers in the first wave!” the Dealer roared, clutching his head. “A historic deadlock! I have never seen such a bloodbath so early! You know what this means, folks! Let us proceed to Sudden Death!”

The music spiked louder, more dramatic than ever before. Over at Table Two, a man ripped off his suit jacket, screaming at the servers to clear the glasses out of his way.

“Back the fuck off!” he howled, his face turning an ugly, bruised shade of red beneath his gold mask. “She’s ours! You already got the House of Diamonds, you greedy fucks!”

“In your fucking dreams, you old piece of shit!” a guest from Table Six roared back.

The men around him immediately joined in, hurling vicious, filthy insults across the ballroom, their voices cracking with sheer, unhinged greed. The remaining tables fed on the hostility, hollering and slamming their palms against the glass to instigate the war. They were turning into a rabid, drooling pack of wild dogs, ready to tear each other apart for the chance—and right—to destroy the love of my life.

Sudden Death: [Team 2] 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) [Team 6] 🅹 + 🅹 (Tied) Sudden Death points: 4 Jokers (₩1,200,000,000)

“They refuse to yield!” the Dealer howled, feeding off the unhinged greed radiating from the floor. “Four more Jokers burned to ashes! The decks are bleeding dry! Gentlemen, you must break this tie! Give us a second round of Sudden Death!”

The tension stretched the air so thin it felt ready to snap. This wasn’t just a bidding war anymore—it was a public execution of pride. The two groups glared at each other like starving wolves cornering the same prey. The men at Table Two were frantically arguing amongst themselves, their hands physically shaking as they shuffled through the remaining cards in their decks.

Sudden death 2: [Team 2] 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 40 pts (Winner!) [Team 6] 10 + 10 + 10 + 9 = 39 pts Sudden death 2 points: 79 (₩790,000,000) Final points: 619 (₩6,190,000,000)

“By a single point!” the Dealer screamed, his voice cracking through the speakers as Team Two threw their arms into the air in celebration. “Table Two claims the ultimate prize of the night! Hurry! Show us your face cards!”

My chest caved in. Every single digit added to the pot was another heavy chain wrapping around her, a suffocating reminder that to these masked monsters, the girl I loved more than life itself was just a number to beat.

Team 2 x Wonyoung: x3 Ace, x4 Jack, x1 Queen, x4 King ((109 +188+ 483)/2) = 390 +100) (₩11,090,000,000)

The price on the screen was incomprehensible. Eleven billion won.

“A masterpiece of a hand!” the Dealer cheered, bowing deeply toward the winning table. “Three Aces, four Kings, four Jacks, and a Queen! A Full House! Come forth, my Kings!”

Four men in expensive tailored suits immediately marched up the steps to the stage. As they moved into view, a sick, heavy wave of recognition crashed into my rotting gut. I knew exactly who they were. These were the exact same monsters who had claimed Minju and Yuna earlier.

The lead King adjusted his cuffs, his eyes locked onto Wonyoung’s waiting figure with a starving, familiar greed.

“Bring back the rest of the Spades,” he commanded, his voice dripping with arrogance. “And we want the new one, too. Bring us An Yujin.”

“No,” a voice said from the shadows.

“No? Who dares reject us?”

Suzy stepped into the harsh spotlight, her golden crown catching the glare as she stared down the four Kings with absolute disdain.

“An Yujin is not an Ace of Spades,” she said, firmly. “She will not perform for you.”

The lead King scoffed, stepping forward to challenge her authority. “Listen here, Your Majesty. We just dropped a fortune on this table. We bought the highest pot in Auction history probably. We want An Yujin out here right now, or—”

“Or what?” Suzy cut him off, her voice dropping into a deadly calm, looking down at the man like he was nothing but dirt on her shoe.

“Or we’ll let everyone know that the House of Spades does not respect—”

“You must have mistaken our House for another,” she said, her tone dripping with absolute contempt. “You can buy the pot. You can buy a temporary seat in our court. But a Spade can never truly be bought, and we certainly cannot be controlled.” She tilted her chin up, daring him to take another step. “Your money buys you exactly what we choose to give you. Nothing more.”

“Drop the royal act, bitch,” the King spat, his face twisting into a cruel sneer. “Crown or no crown, you’re just the head madam of a glorified whorehouse. Give up your queen card for An Yujin then if she’s not an Ace. Matter of fact, where’s the King of Spades, bring him out—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a massive, suffocating presence flooded the stage from the darkness behind the throne.

“You dare disrespect my Queen in front of this hall? In front of our guests? In front of her High Ace? In front of me?”

I didn’t need to look to know that the voice belonged to the King of Spades. I’d recognize his voice from anywhere.

“Her word is as absolute as mine,” he continued, his tone deep and distorted. “Your request has been denied.”

The lead King paused, visibly annoyed but smart enough to recognize he couldn’t overthrow a true King’s final word. “Fine,” he scoffed, adjusting his jacket as he took a reluctant step back. “Just the real Aces, then.”

There was a brief silence that crept through the room, like a brief calm before the final storm that would drown the night completely.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Let the grand finale… begin,” the Dealer whispered, right before disappearing into the darkness like it was his one last trick. “Long live the House of Spades.”

It was the beginning of the end, and it was finally here.

My brain screamed at my limbs to move. Get up. Stand up. You have to. I clawed at the mat, dragging my nails against the padding, but the drugs had fully taken over my traitorous body.

The handler nudged my ribs with his dress shoe. “Hey, Jack,” he muttered. “Can you perform?”

I twitched, letting out a pathetic groan as I tried to force my arms to hold my weight, but my elbows instantly buckled.

The handler clicked his tongue in disappointment as I fell right back down to the mat. “You’re really done this time, I guess.”

Wait! No, I can go—just give me a minute! Please!

He turned toward someone standing behind me. “Alright, you’re up.”

Every nightmare violently blended into reality before my eyes as Choi Mingyu walked out into the blinding glare of the stage. But somewhere during the never-ending storm raging in my soul, a pair of gentle arms slipped under my shoulders and carefully pulled my dead weight onto a soft lap. I forced my heavy eyes open, blinking through the chaos and madness of this broken, despicable world.

“Yujin—”

But the darkness won. Just as it always had.

And perhaps as it always will.

End of Chapter 16.

--

A/N: Guys this was so dreadful to write from both a narrative and technical perspective T_T. It was sooo much smut and took me forever to write and then proofread, I'm so glad it's over, but I really had to go out with a bang, ya know? XD Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it at least! We're only two chapters away from the end now :') Thank you for following along this crazy journey! See you all soon! <33

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“I want it to look exactly like this,” a woman says, tapping a newly bridal-manicured nail on her phone screen. “Cascading orchids, but with real blue roses.”

She’s holding a photo of a Pinterest bouquet that defies the laws of nature, and you are trying your absolute best not to laugh. Or cry.

“Ma’am,” you say, wiping your hands on your apron. “Those aren’t real. That’s either photoshopped, AI generated, or manually dyed.”

She blinks at you, offended. “My cousin had blue roses.”

“I’m sorry, but naturally blue roses don’t exist,” you correct her, gently. “Unless you want me to genetically engineer a new species in the back room during my lunch break tomorrow, we’re going to have to use spray paint.”

“Paint?” she asks, horrified. “For my engagement party?”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, possibly right before the part where she’s demanding to speak to the manager of nature. You expect a text from your best friend Minho asking if you want to get drinks later to mourn your newly single status, but instead, it’s a number you don’t recognize.

[Unknown] hey ☺️ i think i left my earrings on your nightstand also, my legs are still shaking 😝

You blink, then look up at the bride-to-be—who’s now aggressively zooming in on the impossible blue roses—then back down at the text. You can’t tell if you feel jealousy or pity towards this person. Legs shaking—so a good night—but no way to contact the person responsible? Well, that’s more action than you’re getting, at least.

[You] pretty sure you have the wrong number i have a nightstand but no earrings hope your legs recover though

“So,” you say, slipping the phone back into your apron. “For the roses. We can do white, or we can do paint. Or I can give you a marker and you can do it yourself.”

“Look at all these blue roses on Google.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The florist life is not nearly as romantic as people think it is. Or at all, really.

Movies make it look like you spend your days gently misting ferns while soft acoustic music plays in the background, but in reality, your hands are permanently stained green, you have thorn scratches on your forearms that make you look like you hang out with feral cats, and you spend half of your time hauling buckets of water that weigh as much as a fully grown female Golden Retriever.

Your family owns Petal & Thorn, a small shop tucked away in a quiet alleyway in Gangnam. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it’s steady enough to pay the bills. Plus, you enjoy the peace on most days.

Lately, though, the quiet haunts you.

Jisoo moved out two months ago and the apartment feels too big now. The silence in the shop used to be tranquil, but now it just feels like an echo of the emptiness at home.

It’s the middle of January, right in the dead of winter, and you’ve gone full-blown workaholic mode. You aren’t just ignoring the looming threat of Valentine’s Day—you’re actively dreading it. Because aside from being the busiest day of the year for a florist, just the idea of facing it alone makes you sadder than you care to admit—but if you stop wrapping bouquets for five minutes, you might actually have to process those feelings, and you simply do not have the time for that.

Not after what Jisoo did to you.

The mysterious wrong number never replies. She probably saw your text, died of embarrassment, and threw her phone into the Han River.

So you forget about her completely.

…Until exactly one week later, when the first snow is threatening to fall.

You’re about six or seven shots of soju deep at a pocha when Minho slams his hand on the table, rattling the empty bottles.

“Okay, listen, you need to stop moping,” he says, pointing a pair of chopsticks at you. “Jisoo wasn’t even that great. Sure, she was hot, but she thought Your Name was boring. Like, come on, she didn’t cry at the twilight scene—matter of fact, she didn’t even tear up! That’s a red flag, hyung. A massive red flag.”

“I’m not moping,” you lie, pushing a piece of pork belly around your plate. “I’m just tired. I had to wrestle a cactus into a customer’s sedan today because she didn’t want to pay for delivery. It was exhausting.”

“You think that’s exhausting?" Minho scoffs, pouring himself another shot. “Try being on dating apps in 2026. I swiped right on four hundred girls last night. Four hundred! And do you know how many matches I got?”

“I don’t know—ten?”

He holds up two fingers aggressively. “Two! And one of them was a bot trying to steal my crypto.”

“Oh no, not the whole 65,000 won of XPR,” you say flatly.

“Shut up, I’ve got more than that.” He knocks back the shot and shudders. “Look, I’m saying it’s a wasteland out here. I have to deal with ghosting and catfishes, and you’re crying over a girl who didn’t appreciate an anime masterpiece.”

“So what, you think I need to suffer with you?”

“No.” He leans in, his eyes almost too serious. “You need a distraction, hyung. A rebound. Something messy to restart the flame.”

You snicker. “A messy rebound is the last thing I need right now.”

“Look, I just need you back in the game, because if I have to go on one more blind date alone, I’m going to become a monk—”

Suddenly, your phone lights up on the sticky wooden table.

[Unknown] are you SURE you’re not him?

You stare at it. It’s the wrong number from three weeks ago. You’d almost forgotten about her.

It buzzes again before you could even pick it up.

[Unknown] i don’t understand why he would give me a fake number we had such a good night he said he wanted to see me again

Minho cranes his neck. “Who is that? Is it Jisoo? She wants you back, doesn’t she?” he asks, looking almost offended. “Tell her you’re busy. Tell her you’re watching Your Name because you don’t think destiny is a hoax.”

“It’s not her,” you say, unlocking the screen. “Just a wrong number.”

But for whatever reason, you don’t put it down.

Maybe it’s the soju, or maybe it’s Minho’s annoying lecture, but you feel a sudden urge to engage with this person again.

[You] still not him still no earrings still just a random stranger that you’re exposing all your secrets to

The reply is instant.

[Unknown] omfg this is so embarrassing i’m going to throw my phone out the window bye

You snort, almost unwillingly.

Minho stuffs a piece of kimchi in his mouth and looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re smiling,” he says, chewing suspiciously. “Why are you smiling at a wrong number?”

“She’s funny,” you murmur, typing back.

“She? How do you know it’s a girl? What if it’s a catfish scammer trying to steal your crypto?”

[You] don’t throw your phone not in this economy just blame the alcohol and move on

[Unknown] i’m not drunk!!! okay actually i had three glasses of wine but if i don’t drink i might accidentally strangle a client tomorrow

[You]  lol what are you, a hitman?

[Unknown] worse i help people find their happiness

[You]  ah you’re a therapist i can see why you need to drink then

[Unknown] not a therapist but i do double as one more often than i should what about you? it’s kinda giving ✨ unemployed ✨

[You]  only on non-holidays 💁‍♂️

[Unknown] don’t tell me you’re a mall santa

You chuckle into your shot glass. Minho looks over, judging you, but you ignore him.

[You] no i’m a florist but i deal with just as many tantrums

[Unknown] wait no way are you serious im a wedding planner we’re in the same circle of hell

[You] that explains why you’re drinking you have to spend your days planning people’s happily ever afters knowing that love doesn’t last 😌

[Unknown] damn who hurt you

[You] love hurt me

[Unknown] love isn’t even real take it from a wedding planner

[You] and take it from someone who grows flowers for a living that nothing pretty ever lasts

[Unknown] wow marry me it’ll be the cheapest wedding ever because we’ll both hate it

You laugh out loud this time, and a couple of tables look over.

“Wow, I haven’t heard that in a while.” Minho leans back, looking satisfied. “See? I told you. You just needed a distraction. You owe me dinner now.”

“Yeah,” you say, saving her number. You hesitate for a second, then type in ‘Wrong Number’. “Just a distraction—wait, what do I owe you dinner for? You didn’t do anything.”

“I helped you see the light,” he says, waving the server down for another bottle of soju.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

It all started as a joke, a way to pass the time between deliveries and botanical consultations.

But as hours turn into days and days bleed into weeks, the slush of winter settles over Seoul, and the doom and gloom of Valentine’s Day stops feeling so scary. Wrong Number stops being just a distraction. She starts becoming a routine, something almost like a reflex.

And then, without even realizing it, eventually she’s the best part of your day.

The conversations shift seamlessly. They stop being just about bridezillas and cheating husbands and start bleeding into the cracks of your daily lives. You find yourself taking photos of things just to show her—a stray cat sleeping on a bag of fertilizer, a customer wearing a hat that looks like a mushroom, even the way the light hits the Han River on your way home.

You occasionally ask her for fashion advice, like which tie you should wear to your cousin’s wedding (she votes for the navy one, says the maroon makes you look like a Gryffindor). She sends you photos of three different cake samples and asks you to pick the one that “doesn’t look like it tastes like regret” (you pick the red velvet).

Funny enough, you don’t even know her name, and she doesn’t know yours, but you know she hates the color beige (“it’s the color of sadness, why do brides love it?”), loves every shade of green (you’re certain that, given your line of work, will be your final form eventually), and that she listens to J-rock when she’s stressed because it calms her down.

You also know that for all her confidence, her love life is a graveyard of one-to-two-week flings and almost-somethings. That she dates guys who look like models in photos but can’t hold a conversation to save their lives, and the moment she starts asking for actual vulnerability—or just something an inch deeper than surface level—they all seem to suddenly “not feel it anymore.”

But best of all, she knows you, too.

She knows you think red roses are the lazy man’s apology and that you secretly judge every husband who buys carnations for an anniversary. She knows you have a scar on your left thumb from a frantic Mother’s Day rush three years ago, and that you’re both on a never-ending quest for the city’s best shrimp scampi. In fact, you’ve been comparing notes on every restaurant you’ve tried, though she keeps reminding you that hers is still undefeated—and that you’re an idiot for not believing her.

Most importantly, she knows exactly how long you dated Jisoo (three years, four months, two weeks—but who’s counting?). She knows the exact moment you realized it was over: not when she told you that she wanted to be with “someone more ambitious”, but when you saw her buying coffee with her investment banking co-worker and realized she looked happier waiting in line with him than she ever looked on a vacation with you.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

[You] saw an investment banker today almost threw a cactus at him

[Wrong Number] well, did you?

[You] no i have professional restraint plus it’s not even the same guy

[Wrong Number] coward next time aim for the eyes and ask questions later

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

[Wrong Number] ok date update he brought a coupon to dinner first date btw

[You] hmm fiscally responsible or just an investment banker?

[Wrong Number] not sure but he argued with the waiter over 5000 won so i’m going to fake my own death before the entree arrives

[You] i have just the flowers for your pretend funeral

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

[Wrong Number] emergency 🚨 groom just told me he's allergic to lilies the bride ordered 300 of them the ceremony is in 6 hours do i just let him suffer for love???

[You] yes tell him marriage is about sacrifice but if he’s marrying someone who doesn’t know he’s allergic to lilies that’s his own problem

[Wrong Number] lmao you’re evil and also correct but i’m switching them to dahlias because im a wedding planner not a funeral director

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

[Wrong Number] ugh just got home my feet are killing me weddings are sooo long if i ever say i want to get married please come find me and slap me

[You] wait i thought we were getting married

[Wrong Number] oh i changed my mind happens all the time apparently

[You] not the first time someone’s changed their mind about me wishing you the best in your future

[Wrong Number] wait no come back i refuse to be abandoned by the only person in the world who gets me

It’s refreshing, a relationship built entirely in the glowing blue light of a screen, with no expectations and no messy reality to ruin it. You wake up and reach for your phone before you even open your eyes, and even catch yourself smiling in the middle of arranging funeral wreaths, confusing your coworkers.

You tell yourself it’s enough—that you don’t need to know who she is, how she sounds, or what she looks like. Minho wanted it to be messy, but the only thing messy is an actual relationship. Not this—whatever this is.

But then there are days when you realize that a phone screen, no matter how bright, doesn’t have a heartbeat, and as much as you enjoy the banter, the “good morning” texts, and the weird intimacy of sharing your darkest thoughts with a stranger, there are moments when the silence of your apartment gets too loud.

The breakup with Jisoo didn’t just leave a hole in your message inbox, it left a hole in your heart. Sometimes you just miss the sound of someone else breathing in the room or the weight of a hand on your arm. You miss simply looking at someone and feeling your heart race.

And that’s where Tuesday Girl comes in.

You call her that because she appears every Tuesday afternoon around 2:00 PM. She’s the only customer who never asks for advice, or for a bouquet for a lover, or a centerpiece for a mother-in-law; she just comes in, wanders all the aisles, and… breathes.

Today, the bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of a Tuesday afternoon. You look up from a bucket of stripping shears, and there she is.

She’s wearing her usual oversized coat and a scarf pulled up to her nose. And as usual, she looks exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped—but when she stops in front of the dahlias, her expression softens.

You watch her from behind the counter. It’s unprofessional, maybe, but you can’t help it. Even amongst all the aisles of flowers, she’s still the most beautiful sight in the room.

“Rough week?” you ask gently. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to her beyond “cash or card?”

She jumps slightly, looking back. “Is it that obvious?” she says, shoulders relaxing the moment her eyes lock with yours.

“Well, you’re staring at those flowers like you want to cut them in half or set them on fire,” you say, wiping your hands on your apron. “I can’t tell which.”

She lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Both, maybe,” she says, turning to them. “They’re too cheerful. It’s suspicious.”

“They’re ranunculus,” you say, walking just a little closer. “They might look soft, but they’re deceptively high-maintenance, if that helps.”

“Hm… it does, actually…” she says, picking out three stems. “I’ll go with these today then, just to see.”

“See what?”

“If I can keep them alive longer than 24 hours,” she says, shrugging. “I have a theory that things wilt faster when they’re around me.”

You chuckle, and politely take them from her. “Maybe you just need some maintenance advice,” you say, laying the flowers down gently. “When you get home, cut the stems at an angle with a sharp knife, not scissors—scissors crush the capillaries so they can’t drink.”

She blinks, leaning in slightly, genuinely listening. “Okay. Knife, not scissors. No crushing.”

“Right. And change the water every day. Use cold water,” you instruct, your hands moving carefully as you trim the ends for her. “And keep them away from your fruit bowl.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “My fruit bowl? What did my apples ever do to them?”

“Apples release ethylene gas,” you say, glancing up to catch her eyes. “It makes flowers age faster. It’s like second-hand smoke for them.”

She stares at you for a second, and then a slow, genuine smile breaks across her face. “Are you actually trying to protect these flowers from my killer apples? Shouldn’t you want them to be victims so I can buy more?”

“I’m just protecting your investment,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the shop’s heater.

“My three whole stems,” she says, holding onto her chest. “Saved by the nice man who hates apples.”

You smile. “I just want them to last until next Tuesday at least.”

“I’ll report back next Tuesday then,” she says, tucking the flowers into her bag. “If you don’t see me, it’s because my fruits got arrested in time.”

“See you,” you reply, watching her walk out into the gray afternoon.

You stand there for a long time, just staring at the door, wondering you’d just broke her Tuesday schedule with your unsolicited plant advice.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Later that night, you’re heating up leftover kimchi jjigae in your quiet apartment when your phone lights up on the counter.

[Wrong Number] i have decided to become a nun dating is a scam invented by restaurants to sell overpriced pasta that isn’t even as good as what i can make

[You] you keep hyping up this pasta that i’ll never get to try but what happened this time?

[Wrong Number] he wore sunglasses inside the entire time i asked him if he had an eye infection and he said “no, it’s just a vibe” i left before dessert (and before you judge, i paid for my half)

[You] it must’ve been really bad if you didn’t even stay for dessert

[Wrong Number] ugh i’m serious i’m so done with men they are either boring, terrified of feelings, or wearing sunglasses indoors

[You] as a man, that sounds pretty accurate

[Wrong Number] what about you? you never talk about your dating life you can’t tell me you just arrange bouquets all day and then go home to talk to a stranger on the internet wait, we’re not even on the internet

You stare at the steam rising from your bowl. You think about Jisoo and the emptiness she left, about the digital comfort of this conversation, and then, about Tuesday Girl and her cute oversized coat.

[You] i mean i kinda have a crush on someone but it’s not going to happen

[Wrong Number] oooh tea?? why not? is she married?

[You] no i don’t think so she’s a regular customer who comes in every week, doesn’t say much, and just buys flowers for herself

[Wrong Number] wait i buy myself flowers whats wrong with that but wow a mysterious independent woman who doesn’t need a man i like her already so then what’s the problem?

[You] idk she just seems sad all the time i feel like if i tried to flirt i’d just be bothering her plus i froze today i couldn’t even ask for her name lol

[Wrong Number] that’s so classic you ok look, from one sad girl to another, sometimes we want someone to break the ice for us next time she comes in just give her an extra flower on the house and see if she smiles

[You] you really think that would work?

[Wrong Number] i know it will work trust me i’m an expert on what women want since men clearly have no clue

[You] hmm okay i’ll give it a try if it doesn’t work you owe me pasta

[Wrong Number] deal now entertain me please i’m in the tub soaking in this new lush bath bomb but my ex’s netflix account just locked me out tell me about the worst customer you had today

You smile and type out the story, completely unaware that the woman giving you advice on how to woo the sad customer is currently sitting in her own bathtub, looking at the three ranunculus stems in a vase, wondering what the cute florist is doing.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Two days later, you’re seeking refuge in your usual sanctuary: a small cafe two blocks from the flower shop. You like it because the baristas all know your order and never seem to judge you for staring at the wall during your lunch breaks.

You’re midway through your coffee, scrolling through supplier invoices, when the bell above the door chimes.

You look up.

It’s her.

Tuesday Girl—but it’s a Thursday, and she’s standing in the doorway of your coffee shop, shaking snow off that same oversized coat.

Panic immediately washes over you. Seeing her in the flower shop is one thing, that’s your turf—you have the counter, the apron, and the professionalism to save you from freaking out—but seeing her here, in the wild, is terrifying. It’s like seeing a teacher at the supermarket.

She steps into the line, waiting behind a guy wearing the most obnoxious puffer jacket you’ve seen in ages. You watch her like a private investigator as she turns slightly, profiling her side profile to you—and it is absolutely profiling, sidely. She looks so pretty, so lovely, so sad, but also so unapproachable.

But then, she tries to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, misses, and accidentally pokes herself directly in the eye.

She winces, blinks rapidly, and looks around in a panic to see if anyone saw her—completely oblivious to the fact that you are sitting twenty feet away, watching her with your heart in your throat while trying your best not to die from how adorable she is.

This is it. The universe is giving you a redo. Just stand up and walk over there. Say, “Hey, it’s me, the flower guy. How are the ranunculus doing? Did the apples get them or did the bananas step it up this week?”

Your spark of courage is short-lived when you realize you actually have no idea how to start this conversation. You grip your coffee cup. You shift in your seat. You watch her order something complicated with oat milk.

Ten minutes pass and she turns to scan for a table. Her eyes sweep right over you, and you hunch your shoulders like a reflex, terrified she’ll recognize you—but also equally terrified she won’t.

You watch discreetly as she sits at a table in the corner, pulls out her phone, and vanishes into her own world.

You let out a breath. You failed again.

The frustration burns in your chest; you need to vent, and there is only one person who will understand the specific absurdity of this situation, so without thinking, you pull out your phone. It’s ridiculous and it’s embarrassing, but you absolutely need to tell someone, and there is only one person you tell everything to.

[You] i’m at a coffee shop and the sad girl is here

You look back up at the girl, who’s now typing something on her phone with the kind of smile that has to be reserved for a boyfriend of some sort—it’s too joyful, especially coming from her.

[Wrong Number] and did you ask her name this time?

[You] no i’m scared

[Wrong Number] omfg ask her out!!! what is the worst that could happen?

[You] idk??? she could say no and then i have to find a new place to buy coffee because i’ll never be able to show my face in this neighborhood again

[Wrong Number] you are hopeless do it right now or i’m blocking you

[You] easy for you to say you ghost everyone

[Wrong Number] true but seriously ask this girl out you do realize she could be sitting there waiting for you to say something right?

You stare at the screen, and then back at the girl, who’s now sipping on whatever fancy drink she ordered.

Wrong Number is right. Life is short. You are a grown man. You can do this.

You take a deep breath and place your hands on the table to push yourself up. Today is the day—you are going to walk over there, and you are going to ask Tuesday Girl for her name. Not even divine intervention can stop you from—

The bell above the door chimes again, a little louder than the other times, interrupting your plan.

A man walks in, stopping you in your tracks for no apparent reason at all. He’s tall, wearing an expensive camel coat, and his hair is perfectly permed—basically, the complete opposite of you. He fixes his scarf and scans the room, spotting the corner table, and smiles.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his voice carrying across the quiet shop.

Tuesday Girl looks up. She locks her phone, slides it into her pocket, and stands up.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she says, offering the man a polite, shy smile. “I just got here.”

You freeze, still halfway out of your chair.

She wasn’t sitting alone because she was lonely. She was waiting for a date.

You sink right back down, your heart dropping right into your stomach, watching as Camel Coat Guy puts a hand on her lower back and guides her toward the counter to get his own drink.

As much as you hate to admit it, they look good together.

[You] nvm she was waiting for a date he looks like he owns a yacht

You don’t wait for a reply; you grab your coat and your half-finished Americano and slip out the side door before they can turn around.

You walk back to the flower shop, kicking the slush around the sidewalk with every step, telling yourself it’s better this way—that fairy tales aren’t real, and the sad girl you see on Tuesdays was never going to be yours anyway, no matter what Wrong Number had to say about it.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“You’re moping again,” Minho says, skating backwards past you with infuriating grace. “You’re bringing down the entire vibe of this establishment. Look—that child over there is crying because he sensed your sad boy aura.”

“He’s crying because he fell on his face,” you mutter, clinging to the railing. “And I’m not moping. I’m fighting for my life on these rentals.”

“You’re moping about fumbling a girl you see every week.” Minho spins, spraying a fine mist of ice onto your shins. “So what if Tuesday has a boyfriend with a nice coat. Big deal. What about the girl you’ve been texting non-stop? Isn’t she a candidate?”

“Who?” you say, pushing off the wall to attempt a wobble that vaguely resembles skating.

He shrugs. “I don’t know her name. I don’t even think you do.”

“Oh, her—I don’t, actually,” you say, right before slipping.

“Yeah, well, what’s wrong with her?” he asks, unfazed that you just fell the hundredth time.

“Nothing, she’s great.” You pause, sitting on the ice, thinking back to the endless texts. “Honestly, she’s the funniest person I’ve talked to in years. We have really great chemistry, but… she doesn’t even feel real. Sometimes it feels like she’s just… pixels on a screen.”

“So make her real,” Minho says, skating circles around you, both literally and figuratively. “She lives in Seoul, doesn’t she? Why haven’t you guys met yet? It’s been weeks.”

“It just hasn’t come up,” you say defensively, brushing the ice off your gloves. “And we don’t want to ruin the vibes. Right now, everything’s perfect. No expectations, no awkward silences. If we meet, reality messes everything up. What if we have zero chemistry in person? What if she chews with her mouth open? I’d rather not ruin the friendship.”

“Wow, hyung—you are a coward,” he declares, shaking his head.

“What? How?”

“You are protecting a fantasy because you’re scared.”

“Whatever,” you grunt, getting back up. “I’m happy with what we have.”

He stops in front of you, blocking your path. “Okay, forget the pixels then. Look around. We are at Lotte World. The happiest place in Seoul. Surrounded by eligible women who are likely freezing and in need of body heat.”

You look around at the sea of school uniforms and cat-ear headbands.

“Minho, they’re all high schoolers. If I hit on anyone here, I’m going to jail. And if I go to jail, I won’t be able to tex—I mean—I don’t have time for prison.”

“Not everyone,” he corrects, straightening his coat and narrowing his eyes, scanning the crowd like a predator on the Discovery Channel. “There—target acquired. Three o’clock, by the skate rental. No uniform, expensive coat, looks like she needs saving from a bad day.”

You look. A tall woman is standing by the rental counter, looking rather impatient, but she is indeed an adult.

“Observe,” he says confidently. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He glides over to her. You watch from a safe distance, gripping the rail, as he stops with a flourish and smiles—that stupid, dimpled smile that usually only works on ahjummas. He gestures to the ice, points to the concession stand, and then leans in with what he probably thinks is swag.

The woman stares at him. She doesn’t smile back; she just points toward the exit, where a man holding two toddlers is walking toward her.

Minho’s smile freezes. He nods, bows deeply—twice—and skates back to you at high speed.

“Well?” you ask, even though you already know.

“Husband. And twins.”

“Nice.”

“Okay, maybe it’s really over for the both of us.” He leans against the rail next to you, slumping his shoulders. “Valentine’s Day is next week, hyung. Next week. We are going to watch Jujutsu Kaisen together while the rest of Seoul goes to Michelin-rated restaurants with their lovers, aren’t we?”

“We’ll survive,” you say, holding back a sigh.

“Will we?” He rubs his face. “It’s been so long since I went on a proper date, I think I’ve lost all my rizz.”

The sigh finally comes out. “You never had any rizz to begin with.”

“I’m drying up here,” he whines, ignoring what you just said. “At this point, I’m essentially a monk with better hair.”

“Same here,” you say, watching all the couples holding hands, skating together around the rink. “We might as well spend Valentine’s Day at a monastery.”

He looks at you. “How long has it been for you? Since Jisoo?”

You stare at the ice, scuffed and scarred by a thousand blades. “Yeah,” you admit quietly. “It’s been a while.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The apartment is quiet, as usual. You’re lying in bed, watching the light from your phone illuminate the ceiling while Minho’s words rings in your ears.

How long has it been for you? Since Jisoo?

It has been a long time. The emotional intimacy with Wrong Number is satisfying, yes, but after seeing Tuesday Girl with her date, and hearing Minho complain about his dry spell, you are suddenly painfully aware of the physical loneliness.

Your phone buzzes, and sadly, even that is enough to send something tingly through you.

[Wrong Number] so my friend just told me i have virgin energy because i wouldn’t let a guy buy me a drink the other night me? virgin? i’ve never felt more insulted

You smile. Her timing is just always impeccable.

[You] well is she wrong?

[Wrong Number] EXCUSE ME? whose side are you on?

[You] i’m just saying you talk a big game for someone who spends her saturday nights talking to a florist she never met

[Wrong Number] wow for your information i have seen the inside of three different bedrooms this month

You blink. You actually feel a weird hint of jealousy, which is ridiculous because you have no right to it. At all.

[You] congratulations enjoy your happiness and orgasms

[Wrong Number] i can assure you there is no happiness involved and definitely no orgasms i wake up and i just want to leave so i can talk to you clearly i am broken

The jealousy vanishes instantly, replaced by something strange but warm. I just want to leave so I can talk to you.

[You] you’re not broken i’m just so interesting you can’t help it

[Wrong Number] if this is rizz then i can see why you’re single 😑 anyways what about you when was the last time for you

[You] a while

[Wrong Number] how long is a while? pre-pandemic? pre-iphone?

[You] shut up like a month before my ex left so like four months ago honestly i think i’ve forgotten how to do it if i meet a girl tomorrow i’d just disappoint her the way all the guys are disappointing you

[Wrong Number] doubt it you have nice hands

You stare at the text. You have nice hands. It’s the first time she’s ever complimented you physically—but she’s never even seen you.

[You] you don’t even know what my hands look like

[Wrong Number] florists always have nice hands good at handling delicate things without breaking them? sign me up

Your mouth goes dry. Is she flirting with you now? At a time like this?

You try to think of a reply, but she’s already typing again.

[Wrong Number] anyway we’re a tragic pair one of us is starving and the other one is eating garbage

[You] we should probably fix that

[Wrong Number] yeah we probably should

Neither of you reply after that. The silence that follows isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it’s mutual. It’s the silence of two friends too afraid to across the line, but too curious to see what’s on the other side.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Valentine’s Day in a flower shop is anything but romantic.

By 2:00 PM, you’ve stripped thorns off six hundred roses, written “I love you” on cards for men who definitely do not mean it, and mediated an argument between a husband and a mistress who accidentally ordered from the same account. Your hands are scratched up, your apron is covered in green slime, and the only reason you are still standing is thanks to the three espressos and your sheer hatred towards Saint Valentine for selling his soul away to capitalism.

One of your co-workers conveniently called in sick last minute, so Minho volunteered to help. He’s barricaded behind a wall of baby’s breath in the backroom, frantically wrapping bouquets like he’s diffusing bombs.

“If I see one more teddy bear,” he yells over the sound of the cooler humming, “I am going to strangle it!”

“Just focus!” you snap, cutting a ribbon with your teeth. “We only have twenty minutes before the 5:00 PM rush.”

That’s when your phone buzzes on the counter.

You wipe your wet hands on your apron and check it, expecting a supplier update—or at the very least, a funny text from Wrong Number to make everything better.

It’s neither.

[Kim Jisoo] hey, i know it’s been a while, but i’m in the neighborhood. do you think we can talk for a bit? maybe over dinner? after you get off, of course.

Your stomach drops—and so does your phone and the flowers you were working so hard on. Your brain starts malfunctioning as you stare at the screen on the counter. The timing couldn’t be worse.

You should say no, of course. You should ignore her, even, but the exhaustion makes you weak, the loneliness makes you desperate, and the memory of three years together makes you hesitate just long enough to confuse yourself.

You need backup. You can’t do this alone.

[You] SOS code red the ex just texted saying she wants to talk

The response takes about a minute, but it’s the longest minute of your life.

[Wrong Number] WHAT no!!! absolutely not tell her to go away

[You] she’s already in the neighborhood so she’s probably coming to the shop i think she wants to get back together i’m so tired i might actually cave

[Wrong Number] DON’T YOU DARE you are weak

[You] yes we already knew that

[Wrong Number] ugh don’t do this to me!! i’m finally gonna go on a date with someone decent but i WILL leave to save you if i have to

[You] what no don’t ruin your night for me

[Wrong Number] i’ll ruin my night to make sure you don’t ruin your life what’s the name of your flower shop and what time do you close?

You casually tell her, just for the hell of it, and put the phone down. She’s joking, obviously—she’s not actually going to leave a date to come save a stranger she’s never met. It’s just your usual banter.

Right?

By 8:00 PM, the rush has finally died down. Minho went to go drink away the trauma with a foreigner he found on Hinge, and the shop is empty and quiet, still smelling of crushed stems.

Your hands are ready to defy you completely, but you decide to make two more bouquets before retiring for the day.

The first one is simple; you’ve made it so many times that it’s muscle memory by now: pale pink roses—Jisoo’s favorite.

The second bouquet is something you’ve never really done before: four stems of pink ranunculus, surrounded by wild greenery, tied with a large ribbon.

You don’t really know why you’re making it. You don’t even know if she’ll like it. She’s probably not even coming—she’s on a hot date, after all. But if she does show up, maybe it could be a thank you for the digital moral support. Or maybe, deep down, you’re hoping that Tuesday Girl might walk in on a Saturday to get herself something for Valentine’s Day and you can finally give her the extra flower like you’d promised Wrong Number you’d do.

The bell above the door doesn’t jingle, but a knock rattles the glass.

You look up.

Jisoo is standing outside, breath fogging up the glass as she waves at you.

[You] she’s here

You slip your phone back into your apron, take a deep breath, open the door, and let the past back in.

She looks exactly the same as the day she left.

“Hey,” Jisoo says with a soft smile, shaking the snow off her coat. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back against the counter like it could save you. “It has.”

You don’t invite her to sit or offer her tea; you just stand there, in front of the two bouquets you made.

She walks toward you and turns to the roses. “You still remember,” she says, reaching out to touch a petal. “My favorite.”

“Just old habits,” you say, clearing your throat. “I made so many in the past.”

“You did.” She looks up at you, eyes wide and suspiciously sincere. “I’m really sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realize what we had was so precious until I experienced life without you. You really loved me, didn’t you?”

You did. You loved her in the only way you knew how. By shrinking yourself to fit into the spaces she made for you, by nodding along to everything she wanted without argument, and wearing shirts she picked for you even though you hated them. It was a love filled with swallowed opinions and unyielding compromise, but it was also a love filled with everything you had to give.

And in the end, everything still wasn’t enough.

“What happened to the investment banker?” you ask quietly. “You said he was so ambitious and perfect.”

She takes in a breath. “I know how shameful it sounds for me to say this, but it turns out he was only perfect on paper. A nice car, a big apartment, reservations at all the places I couldn’t get into,” she says, looking down. “But he didn’t know how to make me laugh. He didn’t know to ask for extra cucumber banchan without me telling him to, or that I need exactly three pillows to sleep. He didn’t care about my day, or rub my feet when I’ve had a long one.”

She looks at you, almost pleading. “He wasn’t you,” she finishes softly.

“I thought that was the point,” you say—not bitterly, just honestly.

She reaches across the counter and covers your hand with hers. “I know this sounds crazy, but I want to try again,” she whispers. “I know I screwed everything up, but I want to fix this. I don’t want to live without you. It doesn’t matter what I gain—all of it means nothing without you.”

You study her big, beautiful eyes, almost getting lost in them like you’ve done so many times in the past. The crazy thing is that she actually sounds sincere for once.

God, it would be so easy. You could easily say yes. You could hand her the flowers and go back to a life that makes sense—a life where you don’t have to be lonely on Saturday nights or holidays.

But then you look at her hand on yours, and realize… you don’t feel anything. Not for her, at least. The only thing you do feel is that itch in your heart; the burning curiosity of what it would be like to hold Wrong Number’s hand just once.

And from just that, you finally understand that your heart does remember how to yearn, just not for Jisoo. Not anymore.

You pull your hand away gently. “Jisoo,” you whisper, your voice almost shaking. “I don’t think—”

The bell above the door screams like a siren as it’s thrown open, and a gust of freezing wind sweeps into the shop, hitting your face.

You look up. Jisoo turns around, startled.

Your heart immediately skips a beat and a half. It’s… Tuesday Girl..?

You can’t recall ever being more shocked in your life, but you also can’t ignore that she looks absolutely stunning, even more so than usual. Actually, she looks so insanely pretty that it physically hurts you. She’s wearing a black dress under an open coat, her hair is curled and perfect, and she looks like she just walked out of a very expensive fashion shoot.

But she’s also breathless, her cheeks are flushed from running in the cold, and her eyes are blazing and alert in a way you’ve never seen before.

She stands in the doorway, scanning the room, shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Her gaze lands on Jisoo, where they linger for a few seconds, and then they shift to you.

She freezes. And so do you.

The puzzle pieces clash together violently in your head as you watch the realization also wash over her face in slow motion. She looks at the sign hanging on the window, then she looks at her phone, and then she looks at you.

“No way,” she breathes.

She walks up to the counter, her eyes glued to your face with a mix of both horror and wonder. You watch like a deer in headlights as she stops right next to Jisoo, ignoring her completely.

“It’s you?” she asks, her voice pitching up. “You’re Flower Boy?”

You stare at her. “And you’re Tuesday Girl?”

“I was surprised when you told me the name of the shop, but I thought you just coincidentally worked here!” she says, throwing her hands up. “I didn’t think you were him! I thought I was coming to save No Earrings, not the guy I—” She catches herself, her eyes widening, cheeks flushing a furious, lovely pink. “The guy I buy flowers from.”

Jisoo looks between the two of you, confused. “Who is she?”

Wrong Number finally turns to Jisoo, for just a second. “I’m the upgrade,” she says simply, and turns back to you, slamming her hand on the counter.

Jisoo blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry, wha—”

“I just walked out on a date!” she says, cutting her off. “I left a perfectly nice man who held the door open, didn’t wear sunglasses inside, and actually asked me questions about my job. I left him with the check—well, only because he said he owns three apartment buildings—and then I ran three blocks in these stupid heels because you texted me saying you were going to do something stupid.”

You cover your forehead. “Why would you—”

“Because you told me not to let you be weak!” She points a finger at you like she’s disciplining a dog. “You told me to stop you if you ever tried to go back to the past. So here I am, stopping you—”

“Excuse me,” Jisoo finally cuts in, her voice sharp with disbelief as steps forward, reclaiming her territory. “I don’t know who you think you are, but what do you mean stop him? You’re just some random girl—you don’t know anything about him!”

Wrong Number finally turns to look at her. She doesn’t flinch or back down; she just raises an eyebrow like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

“I don’t know him?” She lets out a dry laugh. “Are you sure about that? Where do I even start? Let’s see—I know he hates red roses because they’re lazy. I know he has a scar on his left thumb from a Mother’s Day rush three years ago that still feels weird when it rains. I also know he’s terrified of birds because a pigeon attacked him when he was seven. I know he puts hot sauce on his popcorn. I know he reads the end of a book first to make sure his favorite character survives.” She pauses briefly, then slowly continues. “And I know he stays up until 2am staring at the ceiling wondering if he’s good enough for anyone to stay because of someone.”

She takes a few steps closer to her, voice dropping even lower. “But what about you, Jisoo?” she asks, tilting her head. “What do you know?”

Jisoo flinches, taken aback. “W-what?”

“You dated him for three years. So tell me. What does he actually want to do with his life? What’s his dream?”

Jisoo falters, glancing at you for help. “Well… h-he wants to expand the shop, of course. He wants to… make it bigger. More successful.”

Wrong Number lets out a loud scoff, and shakes her head, looking at Jisoo with something close to pity. “You don’t know him at all,” she says simply. “He wants a really big garden to grow nothing but wildflowers because they’re the only things that don’t need perfection to survive. He wants a quiet life where he doesn’t have to impress anyone.”

“Well, I—”

“You think he isn’t ambitious because he doesn’t want a big franchise or own multiple rental properties or work with mega corporations,” she says, sounding almost offended on your behalf. “But his ambition is to just be happy—and that’s so much harder than just being rich.”

Jisoo opens her mouth to argue, but no words come out. She looks at you, stunned, realizing she never asked what actually makes you happy.

Wrong Number leans in, her gaze completely unwavering. “I know him better in three weeks of texting than you did in three years of dating, without ever even meeting him. So don’t tell me I don’t know him.”

Jisoo recoils as if she’s been slapped. She looks at you, waiting for you to deny it or defend her. You don’t.

Wrong Number turns away and steps closer to you, ignoring Jisoo completely now. “Do not take her back,” she says, her voice cracking just a little, the anger softening. “You are not a consolation prize for a failed relationship. You are not a backup plan for when someone gets tired of being lonely or neglected by their new partner.”

She takes a shaky breath, her eyes searching yours, as if desperate to make you understand.

“You’re the guy who protects my flowers from imaginary fruit crimes because you want them to live longer. You’re the guy who stays up to 3am with me to debate whether or not a zombie apocalypse would fix the housing market crisis. You’re also the only person who can make me laugh when I’m crying in a bathtub. You never met me and you treated me more like a person than all the people I’ve went on dates with. You actually care about what I have to say and remember things about me. You’re funny, you’re understanding, you’re witty, you’re kind, and you’re…”

She stops, as if hesitating to finish the sentence.

“You’re the best part of my day,” she finally says. “Every single day.”

Silence descends on the shop.

You look at the two women standing in front of you. There’s Tuesday Girl—the soft, sad eyes you fell for in person, but you also see Wrong Number—the friendship, fire, and humor you fell for in the dark.

Somehow, they’re the same person. They always were. And she left her first decent date in months to come fight for you, to tell you things that no one’s ever said about you—things that you don’t even think you deserve to hear, but she says it with so much sincerity that you have no choice other than to believe it.

You don’t answer her with words; you reach behind the counter and pick up the second bouquet, holding them out to her.

“I made these for you,” you say quietly.

She stares at the flowers, eyes widening. Her tough exterior crumbles as she looks from the pink petals to your face, and a slow, disbelief-filled smile spreads across her face.

“Why did you make this?” she whispers. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t.” You swallow. “But you promised me that the extra flower would make you smile.”

And smile, she does. “I guess I don’t owe you pasta then.”

“I’d still like to try one day.”

She takes the bouquet, then looks at Jisoo, who’s standing there like she’s just seen a ghost.

“I think that you should probably go,” Wrong Number says, clutching the flowers to her chest.

Jisoo looks at the carefully wrapped ranunculus, and then at you. “Right,” she says tightly. “I can see that I’m interrupting.”

She walks out without looking back. The bell jingles one last time, and then silence returns, but it’s not empty silence anymore.

Wrong Number looks at you. You look at her.

The air between you is filled with tension, embarrassment, and excitement—all built off of weeks of non-stop banter, shared secrets, and spilled confessions.

“Your hands look exactly like I imagined,” she says, her voice shaking a little.

You look down at your hands, then back up at her. “I still don’t know your name,” you say softy. “I wasn’t brave enough to ask last Tuesday. Or Thursday, before your date came and snatched you from me.”

She smiles, and it’s just dazzling.

“It’s Cho Miyeon,” she says, looking up at you with soft doe eyes. “And for the record, the guy on Thursday did not own a yacht.”

You tell her your name, and she repeats it to herself while smiling at the flowers, as if it sounds like poetry to her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cho Miyeon,” you say, as the butterflies begin multiplying in your stomach.

“Happy? I blew up my Valentine’s Day date for you,” she says, unbothered. “He’s definitely not calling me back.”

“Good. Because I was hoping you’d be free.”

“Oh really? And what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” you say, glancing down at your apron covered in green slime and sap. “I need to go home and change first. I’ve been wrestling roses for twelve hours.”

“I’m okay with that,” she says, giggling. “I like your apartment. Or, I like the pictures I’ve seen of it.”

“You’ve seen like two at most.”

“That’s enough for me. I have a good imagination.” She raises a finger. “You know, since we don’t have any reservations, let’s just go to the grocery store and get pasta ingredients so I can rock your world.”

“You left an expensive dinner with a guy who owns three apartment buildings so you could stay in and make shrimp scampi for some guy you just met?”

She nods, as if it’s the easiest question to answer. “Yeah. And it’s the second best decision I’ve made all year.”

“What’s the first?”

“Texting the right wrong number,” she says, lightly scrunching her nose.

You smile and reach out to flip the sign on the door to Closed.

“By the way, how are the other flowers doing?” you ask.

“Still thriving and ready to meet their four new friends,” she says, hugging the bouquet. “The apples are rotting in jail.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“Welcome to the fortress of solitude,” you say, flipping on the lights and setting the grocery bags on the counter.

The trip to the store down the street from your apartment felt more like a vivid dream than reality—Miyeon in a long coat and a fancy date-night dress, pushing a shopping cart while debating the differences between butter brands while you tried not to look like a guy who had just been rescued from a rom-com climax—although you pretty much were. She’d insisted on the expensive parmesan (“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right”) and you’d insisted on the garlic bread (“It’s non-negotiable”), and somewhere in the frozen aisle, you’d realized you were having more fun buying pasta ingredients than anything you did all year.

Miyeon steps in and looks around slowly, taking in the overflowing bookshelf, the gray sofa, the framed photos, and the jungle of potted plants in every corner.

“It’s nice,” she says, turning to you with a grin. “Not a single beige wall in sight and lots of green. I approve.”

“I told you,” you say, locking the door behind you. “Sadness is banned in this household—well, except for the guy living in it.”

She laughs, but you’re suddenly really aware of your own appearance. You’re still wearing your work apron, there’s a streak of green floral foam dried on your forearm, and you definitely smell like twelve hours of plant fertilizer and stress. You feel gross, and for the first time in a long time, you desperately want to be something better than gross for someone.

“Okay,” you say, untying the apron. “I need twenty minutes to scrub the Valentine’s Day off my skin. Do you need help with prep?”

Miyeon drops her purse on the counter and takes off her coat, revealing the entirety of her black dress. It’s sleek and tighter than you thought, hugging every curve she has like it was proud to be on her body. Your jaw wants nothing more than to drop to the floor, but you clench onto all the muscles in your face like your life depends on it.

She catches you staring anyway. A small, knowing smirk plays on her lips.

“Go shower,” she says, walking to the kitchen like you’re the guest. “You look like you’re about to collapse. I got this.”

“Are you sure? I can chop—”

“Just go,” she commands, pointing down the hall with a head of garlic in her hand. “I’m going to rock your world tonight.”

Heat rushes to your face. “U-um—”

“With the best shrimp scampi you’ve ever had,” she quickly adds. “Now, go!”

You make it to the bathroom and strip off the apron in record time, taking possibly the fastest shower of your life—less of a relaxing wash and more of a frantic scrub—partly because you smell like a greenhouse, but mostly because leaving her alone in your kitchen feels like waking up from a dream, and you’re terrified that if you take too long, she might disappear before you get back.

You step out of the shower and immediately go into panic mode. You dry your hair aggressively, trying to style it into something intentional without looking like you tried too hard. Then, you pull open your closet and stare at your clothes like you’ve never seen a shirt before.

Too casual. Too fancy. Too… florist.

You finally grab the “nice” button-down you usually save for weddings to match her dress, fumbling with the buttons because your hands are shaking—just a little. It feels ridiculous to be this nervous in your own home, but it feels important. It’s your first date. You want to look like the guy she deserves, not just the guy she settled for because he’s good at making jokes over text messages.

The smell hits you the moment you step out: garlic, butter, and lemon. It’s rich and intoxicating, and somehow exactly like how you expected your first dinner to be.

You walk into the living room and freeze.

Miyeon is standing at your stove, tossing pasta in a pan. She’s kicked off her heels, and she’s humming along to the J-Rock song you mentioned to her a few days ago.

It hits you like a wave of déjà vu—again, somehow. You’ve never seen this before—Miyeon in your kitchen, cooking dinner—but it feels nostalgic. Like a dream from a future you’ve been waiting to live or maybe a memory from a previous life.

She turns around, holding up a wooden spoon, and pauses when she sees you. Her eyes sweep over the crisp shirt, the styled hair, the effort—if it could be called that. A slow, shy smile spreads across her face.

“Wow,” she says softly. “You look… good.”

You adjust your cuffs, suddenly shy. “Well, it is a first date. I didn’t want to be underdressed next to… that.” You gesture to her dress.

“I’m wearing this because I didn’t have time to go home,” she teases, her eyes dancing. “You’re wearing that because you’re trying to impress me in your own living room.”

“Is it working?”

She leans back against the counter, biting her lip to hide a grin. “It’s a little formal for last minute pasta on the couch… but yeah, it’s working.”

“Good,” you say, walking over to stand beside her. You lean in to smell the pan, your arm brushing against hers. “Wow, it looks and smells incredible. You weren’t joking.”

“It’s my one life skill besides predicting which marriages won’t last.” She turns back to the stove, satisfied. “Now grab the plates. I’m starving, I left the dinner before the appetizers even came out.”

You eat at the coffee table, sitting on the floor with your knees bumping together. The pasta is perfect—garlicky, buttery, and exactly what you needed after a twelve-hour shift of wrestling roses. A bottle of white wine sits between you—cheap stuff you two bought for cooking but decided to also drink instead, and somehow, it tastes better than anything you’ve had in years.

For a few minutes, you just eat in comfortable silence, passing the wine bottle back and forth. It’s surreal. For weeks, you’ve eaten dinner with your phone propped up against a water glass, texting her. Now, she’s right next to you. You can see the way she pushes the shrimp around her plate to save it for last, and the way she scrunches her nose when she laughs.

“You know,” she says suddenly, breaking the silence. “This feels kind of weird.”

“What does?”

“Just us. Being here. I feel like I’ve been sitting on this floor with you for weeks.”

You nod, leaning back against the couch, twirling the stem of your wine glass. “It feels like we skipped the first ten dates.”

“We did,” she laughs softly, her cheeks flushed slightly from the wine. “It’s like we already know everything about each other so there’s nothing left to talk about.”

“And yet I didn’t know your name until an hour ago,” you say.

She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s backward. Everything about us is backward.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” She looks at you, her eyes soft in the dim light. “I think it’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She takes a sip of wine, then clears her throat as if the moment got a little too soft, too fast.

“Okay,” she says, putting her glass down. “So I’ve been meaning to ask—do you have a TV or do you just stare at your plants for fun?”

“Oh, I have a projector,” you say, pointing to the ceiling. “And Netflix, Disney, Coupang Play… pick your poison.”

She hums, looking at the blank wall. “What’s your favorite movie? The one you can watch a hundred times and never get sick of.”

You hesitate. You think about saying something cool, like The Godfather or some obscure indie film to impress her, but you promised her honesty a while ago.

“You’re going to judge me,” you warn.

“Try me. I unironically love Twilight, I have no room to judge.”

“Okay.” You take a breath. “Your Name.”

She freezes; her fork stops halfway to her mouth.

“The anime?” she asks, eyes widening. “Kimi no Na wa?”

“Y-yes,” you say defensively. “The animation is incredible, and the soundtrack—”

“No way,” she interrupts, putting her plate down. “That’s my favorite movie.”

You blink. You think about Minho’s rant from months ago—‘Jisoo didn’t cry at the twilight scene! That’s a red flag!’

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious,” she says, her face lighting up. “Two people connected across time and space who don’t know each other’s names, searching for each other? It gets me every time.”

“Y-yeah,” you murmur, thoroughly shocked at how much more perfect she could get.

She looks at you for a second. “It kinda reminds me of us in a way,” she admits, and then laughs. It sounds really nice. “We’re watching it together. Immediately.”

You smile. It’s the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.

“Your Name it is,” you say, dimming the lights.

You pour the last of the wine into each of your glass, and start the movie.

For the next two hours, you sit side by side in the dark. At first, there’s a respectful distance between you. But somewhere around the body-switching montage, you feel her shoulder press against yours, and by the time the comet appears in the sky, her head is resting on your shoulder.

At the twilight scene—the moment when Taki and Mitsuha finally see each other on the mountain—you feel Miyeon shift. You look over. She is literally weeping; silent, genuine tears streaming down her face.

You don’t laugh, you just reach out and take her hand, and she squeezes it back without saying a word or even looking away from the screen.

When the credits roll, she sniffs, wiping her eyes carefully with her finger.

“Don’t judge me,” she says, laughing to herself. “I told you. Every time.”

“I’m not judging.”

She turns to look at you, her eyes reddened yet still beautiful. She smiles, then catches her reflection in the dark window.

“Oh god,” she winces, touching her cheek. “I look like a raccoon. I need to go fix my makeup.”

“You don’t have to. I think you look bea—um—fine. You look fine.”

She stands up. “No, I’m not letting you see me like this.”

“Alright, well—bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left,” you say, pointing. “But you already knew that when you demanded I go shower earlier.”

“Well, there’s only so many places it can be.”

You listen to her footsteps retreat as you look at the empty plates and the projected image of the comet fading on the wall, suddenly realizing that you’re smiling so hard your face hurts.

“Hey!” she calls out a moment later, breaking your little daze. “I found them!”

You pause. That wasn’t the bathroom door; it was the bedroom.

“Huh?” You dry your hands and walk down the hall.

The bedroom door is open, and the bedside lamp is on, casting a warm, amber glow over the unmade bed and the wooden nightstand. Miyeon is standing by your bed, looking at you with a mischievous grin.

“You found what?” you ask from the door.

“My earrings,” she says simply. “The ones I left on your nightstand.”

You squint at the empty nightstand, then back at her. “What earrings?”

“Scroll back to the beginning of our texts,” she says, her voice dropping to a playful purr. “I left my earrings on your nightstand, remember?”

She looks up at you; the laughter fades from her eyes, replaced by something a little softer, a little heavier.

Then, slowly, she reaches up to her ear, undoing the clasp of her actual earring—a long, elegant gold hoop with a diamond drop—placing it gently on the nightstand. It makes a soft clink against the wood. Then, she takes off the other one, placing it beside the first.

“There,” she whispers, biting her lower lip.

You look at the earrings gleaming under the lamp light, then back at her.

“I guess I can’t be No Earrings Guy anymore.”

“I guess not,” she says, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips. “If I text you tomorrow, you’ll reply, right?”

“Yes,” you say, walking closer to her—so close that you can smell her perfume as clear as day. “I’ll say, ‘You have the wrong number.’”

She laughs, but the sound is cut short as you lean down. “Don’t you dare,” she breathes. “Are you trying to cosplay as my one-night-stands?”

“As you can see, I have one nightstand, but I’m not gonna be your one-night-stand.” You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “I’d like to see you again and again, if that’s okay with you.”

Her shoulders relax in your embrace. “Every Tuesday?”

“Maybe a little more often than that, but we can start there.”

“Mm… I’d like that,” she says, brushing her nose against yours. “I have a request though.”

“What is it?”

She smiles and leans into your ear. “Will you… make my legs shake, though?”

You can feel her breaths brushing against your face at this point. “Is that what you’re thinking about? After all we just went through tonight?”

“Been thinking about it every Tuesday,” she says, teeth tugging at her upper lip.

A gust of courage pushes you forward as you lean in to kiss her. She tastes and feels exactly the way you imagined she would during all those late nights staring at your phone. It feels like the universe is finally clicking into place, like this is the final piece needed for a completed puzzle. Like closing a loop, the way your lips press against hers with a hunger that’s been building all evening—all your life, even. It’s a yearning that’s tested distance and time, like your tongue’s been searching for hers across timelines and phone screens, through flower shops and lonely apartments.

She sighs into your mouth—a soft, surrendering sound—tangling her fingers in your hair as if to anchor you here, in this universe, with her. It’s the kind of kiss that rewrites history. It erases every wrong number, every missed connection, every failed relationship, every awful date, every lonely Tuesday that came before it.

And when she pulls you towards the bed, you know one thing for sure: neither of you is ever going to be lonely again.

Your lips stay locked together from the moment they meet, tongues dancing in a desperate rhythm as both of your hands roam freely—down the sides of her body, snug around her waist, and eventually reaching the skin of her thighs hidden beneath the hem of her dress. Her arms loop around the back of your neck as she angles her head to deepen the kiss, refusing to let you pull away for even a second.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” she says, running her fingers through your hair. “I didn’t expect this.”

“So are you,” you say, pressing your forehead against hers. “But I expected you to be good.”

Her lips curl into a naughty smirk. “Oh, you have no idea what else I’m good at.”

You slide your hand between her legs, feeling the warmth radiating through her panties. “When will I find out?”

Miyeon doesn’t answer, her eyes just flutter as you gently brush her folds through the fabric; a soft moan escapes her mouth as her lips part to your touch.

“Soon—”

But you don’t let her finish. You kiss her again, stealing the air from her breath, as you sneak a finger inside her, curling it gently while she moans into your mouth.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers breathlessly, her hips rocking against your touch.

“You kept secrets from me?” you ask, slowly pushing deeper into her warmth. “I thought we were each other’s safe space.”

“S-sorry,” she cries, neck dipping slightly. “It was embarrassing.”

“What is it?” You go for her neck now, kissing downwards towards her collarbone, while your fingers push and pull out of her heat.

“I’ve been fantasizing about your hands… a-ah… and your fingers…” Her breaths get heavier with every soft thrust. “And… they feel better than I imagined.”

“Can I tell you a secret too, then?” you ask, feeling the cool air rush to your fingers as you withdraw your hand.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’ve been fantasizing about how you taste,” you say, lifting your hand to your mouth.

The taste is so satisfying that you let it linger on your tongue, savoring every drop.

“Who?” she asks, slipping her panties off completely. “Wrong Number or Tuesday Girl?”

You gently press your fingers on her lips, sliding them into her mouth. “Both,” you say.

“And the verdict?” she says, twirling her tongue around them, as if showing off her skills.

The sensation makes you gasp, almost. “Delicious. As expected.”

“Let’s see what else you expected,” she says with a playful grin.

She pushes you onto the bed—not aggressively, just hard enough to make you gasp, and immediately straddles your waist. She peels off her dress in one fluid motion over her shoulders, tossing it onto the floor.

“Jesus,” you accidentally say. You can actually feel your mouth watering.

She smirks and reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra, purposely letting it slide off her small shoulders to reveal her bare skin in the soft bedroom light. Your eyes trace every wondrous curve, from the swell of her breasts to the dip of her slender waist.

You run your fingers up her ribs, savoring the dangerous smoothness of her skin. “You’re gorgeous,” you say, watching her face light up to your words.

“How did you picture me?” she asks, gathering her hair up like she means to tie it—only to let it fall right back down slowly, like she was putting on a show.

You swallow. “Honestly—as Tuesday Girl—because…” you pause.

“Because what?” she asks, tilting her head.

“It’s embarrassing.”

Her smile deepens. “Now you really have to say it.”

You exhale, then let it out in one honest rush of words. “Because I had such a huge crush on you that I think I… I kind of blurred you two together in my head. Just as—” you give a helpless little laugh, “—the girl I like.”

“Aw.” The teasing in her face softens. “Honestly… I think I did the same,” she admits quietly, like a secret she’s placing in your hands as she runs her warm fingers across your cheek.

And maybe that’s why you notice the softness of her skin on your fingertips a little more now, as well as her steady weight over your body as she looks down at you, unable to wipe that smile off her gorgeous face.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, still completely in awe. “I didn’t imagine either of you to look like this.”

She grabs your hands, guiding them to her breasts. “Touch me,” she demands softly, her voice laced with a growing desire. “Like this…”

She grinds down on you, rubbing herself against the bulge in your pants through the fabric. The friction sends tingles through your length, making it throb with need as you knead her tits, thumbs circling her nipples until they harden against your skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” you murmur, your voice rough.

“No, I’m not,” she teases. “Not yet.”

She lowers herself, reaching for your pants and tugging them down along with your underwear in a single pull. Your cock springs free, completely hard and aching for her.

“Okay,” she says, eyes widening. “Um. Wow?”

“W-what?” you say, breath hitching.

She wraps her hand around it, stroking slowly before leaning down to plant a single kiss on the tip; a drop of pre-cum immediately leaks out. “It’s… perfect. Just like I imagined.”

“You imagined this far?” you say, clenching your teeth. “While going on all those dates?”

“I have a great imagination.” She leans in, breath hot as she finally takes you into her mouth, sucking gently at first, tongue swirling around the head. “And you know better than anyone that I didn’t care for any of those dates.”

Your heart actually skips a beat. “Oh—wow.”

She smirks, as if the reaction was expected. “Just wait.”

“I’m patient,” you manage to choke out, watching as her tongue trails down the length of your shaft, mapping a wet line all the way to the base.

“How patient?” she murmurs against your skin.

“I waited all this time to try your pasta, didn’t I?”

She slurps on your length, planting small, teasing kisses against your flesh like she was savoring it on her way back up. “That’s true. Was it worth it?”

“So worth it—aah—”

“You taste good,” she says, pulling back just enough to speak, her breath hot against your flesh. “I’ve wanted this in my mouth for so long.”

“You just met me three hours ago.”

“So? I’ve wanted it in my mouth three weeks before that.”

She stops talking and takes you deeper, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm while her hand pumps the base, tongue gliding down the side of your cock with just enough pressure to complement the wet suction happening above.

“Miyeon—w-wow—” you groan, threading your fingers through her hair. “You’re really good at this.”

Saliva drips down your shaft as she works you sensually, her eyes locked on yours, full of affection and a starving lust. “I love how you twitch for me,” she murmurs between sucks. “And how you fill my mouth perfectly.”

You lift your hips instinctively, and she responds by catching your thighs, pushing them wider apart.

“What are you—”

“Shh…” she soothes, looking right at you as if begging you to trust her. “Don’t be shy. We know everything about each other, don’t we?”

Her tongue trails lower, past the base of your cock, licking your balls with slow, careful strokes now that they’re completely exposed to her. The sensation melts you completely, sending you further into the mattress. She pushes your knees up, brushing her soft, wet lips all over every inch of sensitive skin she uncovers.

“Can I?” she whispers as her tongue creeps down even further.

“Y-yes,” you reply nervously, your body arching toward her on its own.

She licks you everywhere, letting her saliva cover your skin, dripping onto the mattress as her tongue gently flicks around your rim—not enough to feel invasive, but almost lovingly, as if she was worshipping you with her need.

The sensation literally makes you whimper. “Oh my god… it feels so good…”

She hums in satisfaction as her hands continue to stroke you while she slurps you louder, recycling her saliva as she works her tongue across the crease of your cheeks, up the surface of your balls, and all the way up the underside of your cock—just to go right back down again.

“Does it feel good?” She takes all of your balls into her mouth, swirling them with her tongue while her fingers spread her saliva mixed with your pre-cum all over your cock.

“You’re crazy good…” you moan, dropping your head against the pillow.

She presses one last, lingering kiss between your legs before letting your thighs drop, then brushes her lips all the way up your length as she continues jerking you sensually, every inch of your cock now covered with her love.

“I love it,” she moans against your shaft. “I really, really like sucking your dick.”

She bobs her head up and down, slurping and sucking loudly and messily, hands circling your base while her tongue swirls around you inside her mouth. The rhythm isn’t erratic—it’s careful yet enthusiastic, as if she was savoring every bit of you.

“God, I really can’t stop,” she murmurs, stroking you as she catches her breath, tongue still flicking against your flesh as if she can’t get enough. “I’ve never felt like this before. I guess I really didn’t know everything about you.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, breathing heavily.

“What’s not fair?” Her free hand slides between her own legs, fingers dipping into her wetness, while her other hand continues to stroke you.

“I want to taste you too—aah—”

You cut off with a loud moan as she swallows you whole, taking you deeper than before, the back of her throat hugging the head of your cock. She holds you there, letting her throat milk you in tight, rhythmic pulses while her fingers work furiously between her thighs.

You can hear her moans vibrate against you as her tongue circles the underside of your balls with the entirety of your length buried so deep in her throat that it disappears.

“F-fuck…” you whimper, the pleasure ripping through your body as finally pulls out, slowly.

She gasps, heaving for air as strands of spit drip from her mouth, directly back down to your cock, but quickly disappears as her hand pumps it down into your flesh, fusing it with the rest of the hot mess.

“Miyeon,” you plead, voice shaking now. “Please. Me too.”

“Beg,” she teases, exhaling heavily, something lighting up in her eyes.

“I want to taste you. Please.”

She crawls up your body, her hand still pumping you below, and kisses you deeply. Her tongue wrestles aggressively with yours, sharing the taste of your own desire as she grinds her hips against your chest.

“You’re tasting me,” she says, sucking on your lips.

“No,” you protest, fingers digging into the skin on her hips. “Not like this.”

You guide her small frame upwards, lifting her above you to position herself right over your face. Her pussy hovers just above your mouth, glistening with an arousal built up all night.

“Like this.” You grab her waist and pull her down, your tongue plunging right between her folds as you enter her, savoring all her sweetness as you lick and suck her like you’re starved—because you are.

“Oh my god,” she moans quietly, grinding against your face. “This is what you meant.”

You pull back just enough to speak, your lips wet with her love. “Don’t play innocent. You knew exactly what I meant.”

“You weren’t being specific,” she breathes, fingers tangling in your hair. “I didn’t know you meant you wanted to taste my pussy.”

“Yes, you did,” you growl, slapping her ass. “You’re a liar now.”

She lets out a soft yelp of both shock and delight, and you grab a handful of her cheeks to pull her down, burying your tongue deeper into her hole while she drips into your mouth. Her hands brace on the headboard as she rides your face, her breaths coming in short pants and melodic gasps.

You hold her steady, flicking and circling until she’s trembling.

“You’re really good at this, what the hell—aah!” she cries, grinding against your mouth, increasing and decreasing the pressure with every movement. “W-wait—I think I’m gonna come—you’re actually gonna make me come like this—oh wow—wait—wait—”

Her movement stops abruptly, and she pushes hard against you, trapping your tongue against her clit right before her legs start shaking in small, short tremors. Then, a few seconds later, she shatters, moaning loudly, voice cracking along with the erratic jerks of her spine while she anchors herself, using your hair for balance.

She collapses sideways onto the mattress, and you climb on top of her, holding her trembling body in your arms, kissing her softly down the side of her warm neck as she hugs you tightly, chest heaving against yours.

“Wow,” she gasps, voice cracking. “I need a second—that was—wow—”

You keep kissing her soothingly, fingers slowly finding their way back to her heat as you chase the dripping juices leaving her folds.

“You’re a dream come true,” you murmur against her lips, rubbing her sensually, watching her back arch again as her lips part and eyes widen.

“Oh god—” she moans as your fingers sneak their way back in, feeling her walls clench against your skin. “Okay—I don’t need a second anymore—just do it—aah—”

“Do what?” you ask, dipping your head to suck her nipple. Down below, you curl your fingers upward toward her spot, increasing the pressure with every motion.

She twitches beneath you, hips bucking upward to chase your rhythm. “I knew you’d say that—fu—oh my god—”

“Say it properly,” you tease, swirling and flicking against her flesh.

“Fuck me,” she exhales loudly, desperately. “Fuck me, please.”

You wish you had the resilience to continue playing with her, but you actually can’t wait any longer either.

You spread her legs far apart, settling between her slender thighs as your cock nudges at her entrance like it’s drawn by a magnet, and you push in—slowly, inch by inch, watching her eyes flutter shut in bliss as you fill her completely.

“Look at me,” you command.

She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze as your bodies move together, skin slapping softly to every thrust.

“You feel so good inside me,” she whispers, her trembling hands cupping your face. “I think I’m gonna lose it.”

“You’re actually so perfect,” you moan, picking up the speed as her wetness engulfs every inch of your flesh like a warm blanket.

You lean down and kiss her—a deep, passionate collision of lips and tongues, pouring every unspoken emotion between the two of you into the moment as your hips roll steadily against hers, binding your bodies and souls together.

She quickly unbuttons your shirt, flinging it off impatiently. Her hands wander over your chest, nails digging lightly into your shoulders as she matches your pace, wrapping her legs tighter around your waist to pull you deeper. You groan into her mouth, the friction and the heat and the sight of her flushed face beneath you threatening to unravel you completely.

“How did you get more perfect than you already were the past three weeks?” you murmur against her lips, slowing the pace just to torture yourself, just to feel the drag of her walls clutching you. “I never knew I could want someone this much. I need you.”

“I need you too,” she breathes, arching her back into your body. “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

You thrust harder, losing the battle for control, needing to be closer than skin and flesh allows. The slapping sound of your bodies meeting fills the quiet room, a steady, wet rhythm that drowns out the city outside. You are lost in her—in the scent of her hair, the taste of her tongue, the way she says your name like you’ve been lovers for multiple lives.

But you want to see her—all of her. Because you’re sure there isn’t a sight in the world more beautiful than Cho Miyeon.

“Come up,” you command softly, withdrawing slowly until you almost slip out, leaving her gasping at the loss.

She whimpers, reaching for you, her eyes desperate and pleading. “No… stay inside me… don’t go…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, guiding her hands to your chest. “I just want to see you.”

She hesitates for only a second before a wicked glint returns to her eyes. “You like looking at me that much?”

“I’m addicted,” you confess, as she climbs over you, dragging her wet folds across your skin. “I want to see every side and angle of you.”

She looks down at you and smiles devilishly—hair messy, lips parting, skin damp enough to shimmer in the dimly lit room.

“Careful what you wish for,” she teases breathlessly. “There might be a side of me you haven’t seen yet that might scare you.”

Then she sinks down, taking all of you in one slow, agonizing slide. Her head falls back, a long, broken moan tearing from her throat as she fills herself completely. The sight of her—impaled on you, throat bared, riding you with a look of pure bliss—is enough to make you see stars.

She sets a slow, torturous pace, grinding her hips in circles before lifting and slamming back down, milking every inch of you. Her hands rest on your chest, feeling your heart hammer against her palms, her gaze locked on yours as she rides you so skillfully you question how she’s even real.

“Does it feel good?” she asks, leaning forward, letting her hair fall over your faces. “Tell me how good my pussy feels.”

“It feels incredible…” You reach up to cup her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. “You’re so tight… and warm… and wet… I can’t believe this is what I’ve been missing out on.”

“Should’ve met me sooner,” she murmurs, a sinful smirk curling her lips.

“I’m jealous that you were doing this with people who don’t deserve you while I was imagining everything in my head.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous...” She picks up the speed, snapping her hips with a wet, rhythmic smack that echoes in the quiet room. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t feel anywhere as good as you. Your dick is so perfect… it’s like it was made to fill me… just like this…”

“Your pussy was made for me,” you groan, your hips bucking up to meet her, driving deeper. “It’s mine now.”

She gasps. “Yes. I was born to ride you, just like this.”

She leans back, bracing her hands on your knees, giving you a perfect view of where you’re joined, and grinds down hard; her pussy clenching around you in rhythmic spasms that nearly send you over the edge right then and there.

“Look,” she commands, breathless. “Look at how deep you are inside me... look at how my pussy looks wrapped around your dick… you’re all mine now…”

“I’m yours, all yours,” you moan, gripping her hips to help her drive down harder.

“God, it feels so good,” she moans, her head falling back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat. “You’re so deep inside me.”

She rides you harder, faster, abandoning the slow tease for pure, frantic need.

“Fuck me as hard as you can,” she begs, her voice cracking. “Don’t hold back. Break me if you have to, just don’t stop, okay?”

You sit up, meeting her halfway, wrapping your arms around her trembling frame. You capture her lips in a deep, wet kiss, swallowing her moans as your chests slide against each other. The angle changes everything—you’re buried all the way now, grinding against her clit with every upward thrust of your hips, helping her find the rhythm as her legs start to quiver with exhaustion.

“Tell me how you want it,” you murmur against her mouth, your hands gripping her waist to take the weight off her thighs.

“I want you to ruin my little pussy with your cock,” she cries. “Make my legs shake. Make it so I actually can’t walk tomorrow.”

You snap your hips upward, driving into her harder, faster, setting a brutal pace that has her gasping for air. “Is this the side you were scared to show me?”

“No, you wouldn’t be able to handle that side,” she taunts breathlessly, biting her swollen lip.

“So you’re gonna hide things from me now?”

You stop moving abruptly, leaving her hovering on the edge, desperate and whining at the sudden stillness.

“Show me,” you growl.

“Make me,” she challenges, grinding down on you desperately, trying to chase the friction. “Fuck me harder and you’ll see—”

“Fine.”

In one fluid motion, you grip her hips and flip her over. She squeals—a mix of surprise and delight—as you drag her across the mattress. You push her onto her hands and knees, shoving her face into the pillows before grabbing her waist and pulling her back until she’s arched perfectly for you.

You position her directly in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door.

“Look,” you command, your voice dropping as you enter her from behind in one long, smooth thrust that makes her back bow. “Look at yourself, Miyeon.”

She lifts her head, her eyes finding yours in the reflection. She looks so incredibly sexy—hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips wet. “Oh god… what’s happening…”

“You said to fuck you harder, didn’t you?” you whisper, wrapping a hand around her throat lightly, just enough to claim her.”

“Oh fuck…” she moans loudly, her eyelids fluttering as she leans back into your touch.

You start to thrust, snapping your hips against her ass with a punishing rhythm. “Show me.”

“I said you’ll have to fuck me harder if you want—aah!”

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a rough growl as you watch her face twist in pleasure in the glass. “Is it because you don’t want me to know you’re a little whore?”

“No, that’s not it—fuck…”

“What is it, then?” you say, the sight of you disappearing inside her reflection drives you dangerously close to the edge.

“I changed my mind,” she gasps, tightly gripping the sheets. “I don’t have any other sides… just fuck me however you want. Please.”

“That’s unfortunate. I really wanted to see the real you.” You lean down, your chest pressing against her back, lightly sucking her neck. “Every part of you.”

“I am a whore—I’m your little whore…” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back as she watches her own body shaking with the force of your thrusts. “Fuck… it feels so good... god, I’m melting…”

You reach around, your hand splaying over her flat stomach, pinning her in place as you pick up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes loudly in the room.

“Who does this belong to?” you growl into her ear, punctuating the question with a particularly deep thrust that makes her gasp. “Tell me.”

“Yours,” she cries out, staring at herself in the mirror, watching her own breasts sway with the impact. “It’s yours. My pussy is yours from now on.”

“Look at yourself.” You release her stomach to grab her hair, gently pulling her head back so she has no choice but to watch. “Look how pretty you look like this. So sexy and slutty.”

“I love it,” she moans, her hips pushing back to meet you, desperate for more. “Use me. Use my pussy however you want.”

“I’m going to make sure your legs never forget,” you promise, gripping her hips to pull her back onto you harder. “Remember my name, even if you disappear tomorrow.”

She sobs a messy, broken sound, her arms finally giving out. She collapses onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillows, but you don’t stop. You follow her down, hooking one of her legs over your arm to pull her open even wider.

“Oh my god!” she cries out, muffled by the linen. “Don’t stop—oh god, don’t stop!”

You reach around, your hand sliding between her legs to find her clit, rubbing it in time with your thrusts—hard, fast, merciless circles.

That breaks her completely.

“Oh—oh god—oh my god—I’m coming!” she screams, her body seizing up. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Come for me,” you say, kissing her shoulder, her neck, anywhere you can reach.

Her legs start to shake—violent, uncontrollable tremors that rattle the entire bed. Her pussy clamps down on you, milking you with terrifying strength as she rides out the orgasm, sobbing your name.

You pull out, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m—”

“No—wait!”

She scrambles onto her knees, taking you in her hand and immediately wraps her mouth around you, swallowing you deep. Her hand goes down to her still-throbbing clit, touching herself as she looks up at you with needy eyes.

The sight of it—her mouth on you, her fingers, the absolute carnal desire in her gaze—shatters your last bit of control.

“Miyeon—I’m—” you groan, your hips snapping forward instinctively. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

The world freezes as you erupt into her mouth, wave after wave of pleasure bursting through your veins as you pour yourself into her throat. She drains you completely while her fingers keep working, still chasing the aftershocks of her own climax. Your vision blurs slightly as she moans against you, but doesn't swallow immediately. Instead, she holds you there, swishing the warmth around her tongue, savoring the taste for a moment before finally gulping it down.

And when you finally fall back and collapse on the bed, a satisfied, sleepy smile curls the corners of her mouth.

“I told you I was going to rock your world,” she says, licking her lips.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

~ six months later ~

The air in the hotel ballroom is thick with the scent of expensive candles, too much hairspray, and the distinct, high-pitched frequency of a bride on the verge of a breakdown—a sound you know so well.

“I said ivory!” a voice hisses from the head table, where the wedding party is trying to take photos. “This is clearly cream! Does nobody listen to me?”

You shift the last box of centerpieces onto the back room, wiping your hands on your apron. The ceremony is over, cocktail hour is in full swing in the hallway, and you’ve been in the flower business long enough to know when to make yourself invisible.

You scan the chaos, looking for the one person actually holding this circus together.

You spot Miyeon standing in the shadows near the service entrance, leaning against the wall. She looks exhausted; her clipboard is dangling by her side, and she’s watching the scene unfold with the blank stare of a war general who has seen too much combat.

You walk over, sidestepping a server who is rushing to refill the buffet, and when you get close, you nudge her shoulder gently.

“You look like you’re contemplating murder,” you whisper.

Miyeon jumps slightly, then looks up. The professional mask melts away instantly, replaced by a genuine, tired smile that lights up her whole face.

“I’m contemplating arson,” she corrects, her voice hushed. “If I hear the word ‘napkin’ one more time, I’m lighting the tablecloths on fire.”

“Well, the hydrangeas are set,” you say, gesturing to the centerpieces. “And I even found those specific baby’s breath stems you texted me about at 2:00 AM.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She leans her head on your shoulder for a fleeting second, stealing a moment of peace. “This wedding is a freaking disaster. The groom is already drunk out of his mind, the bride absolutely hates the lighting that she picked out herself, and I’m pretty sure the mother-in-law is currently crying in the bathroom because the seating chart ‘disrespects her ancestors.’”

You chuckle, looking out at the groom, who is looking a little too wobbly for 6:00 PM. “I give them six months.”

“Generous,” she murmurs. “I was thinking two.”

“So,” you say, checking your watch. “What’s the plan after this? Should we go try that new Italian restaurant that opened by our place? Or do you want to watch a movie? I’m sure you have lots to cry about after this.”

She laughs, the sound bright and clear over the DJ doing a mic check. She checks her own watch, then looks back at the bride, who is now aggressively directing the photographer.

“Technically, my job is done,” she says, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. “The reception is starting, so the coordinator takes over now, and we should go. But…” She bites her lip, looking toward the corner of the room.

“But what?”

“It’s an open bar,” she says, sliding her hand into yours, lacing your fingers together. “And I kind of want to stay and watch it all burn down. Don’t you?”

You look at her—messy hair, tired eyes, and that same spark of trouble that hooked you from the very first text—and you squeeze her hand.

“Alright,” you say, leaning back against the wall with her. “Front row seats to the disaster it is.”

She giggles. “You’re the best boyfriend in the world, did you know that?”

“Why?” you ask, watching the best man stumble over a microphone cord. “Because I also find entertainment in watching other people fall apart?”

“No. Because you’re just you.”

“And you’re just you.”

“I know,” she says, an adorable smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And you love that.”

You wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against your side. “You’re right,” you murmur into her hair. “I do love you.”

She leans into you as the DJ announces the grand entrance, resting her head on your shoulder. “I love you more.”

“I thought you promised not to lie to me,” you say, kissing the top of her head.

“Never broke it.”

You watch the couple burst through the doors toward a future that’s probably doomed, surrounded by thousands of dollars of flowers and perfectly color-coordinated linens.

Most people spend their entire lives searching for The One. They go on bad dates, swipe through endless profiles, propose just for the sake of it, and plan perfect weddings, desperately trying to manufacture a happy ending.

But not you.

You didn’t have to search for anything. You just had to reply to a text sent to the wrong person.

There was a time when neither of you believed in love, that fairytales and romcoms were just a way to give people something to hope for. But you were both wrong.

You look down at Miyeon, who’s currently whispering a bet on how long until the best man trips, and realize true love does exist for those strong enough to let go of the wrong person.

Most love stories are complicated, messy, and full of wrong turns.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! I really did spend a lot of time on the scene with the Queens since it was something really important to me~ (I have no comment about the Queen of Diamonds.)

Meeko is a stray cat and they generally don't live very long, although it is possible! Wonbin left Korea in 2017, so it's possible that Meeko could still be alive in 2024 when the story ends!

Omgosh, thank you!! I actually spend a ton of time reading over and over so I can get the timings and emotional pacing just right, which is why it takes me so long to finish a chapter! I'm glad it pays off :')

Sorry @fuckkkkkklolI have no comments on who the Queen of Diamonds is!

XD I say I think because I really believe that anyone can interpret the story as they like, no matter what I say. I don't think that my own thoughts are more canon than any reader's! Unless it comes to plot, then yes, I can probably objectively clear those questions! But feelings are very human and everyone's views come from their own experiences.

I fleshed out WPS really hard because I was plotting it through IVE's discography and had to make sure the chapter names can still follow a proper plot structure! A lot of the worldbuilding happened behind the scenes that never made it into the chapters as well. I'm just super obsessed with continuity and in-world logic so I become kinda OCD with those things~ But TCD I'm definitely just going along for the ride, letting it grow as I go through the chapters! I do have an idea of what happens ahead of time, but it does sometimes change!

It's actually so interesting to me because I don't think that was even a classic Clubs scene? It was a mixture of Clubs and Spades, but I can see why it buffed the House of Clubs since they officially sit in there! And if I had to group it, it would still be Clubs over Spades~

It was my first time ever writing IU so I hope I did her some justice, hahah. I do get inspired a lot by JAV, but maybe not that part. That kind of just derived from what I know of trauma and toxic patterns!

A lot of people have asked for more IU so maybe she might win some of the bonus chapter polls! :)

</3 I'm sorry. We'll get through it together! I hope you all know this is just as hard on me as it is on you :') I'm not some sadist! That's why I keep taking breaks to write TCD!

Omg, thank you for reading so much in such a short time! I'm glad you enjoyed the newest chapter~ Now you have to face the curse of context between two stories like the rest of us >:) I've gotten quite a few asks about IU, so it might end up being a bonus chapter!

No respect for SNSD or are the contenders too powerful!? :(

The crowd fell into waves of whispers and murmurs. My limbs still refused to listen, and all I could do was crane my neck, just enough to notice Yujin’s trembling lips dancing between her pink blindfold and a collar that looked like it was dying to brag about once belonging to her.

Yujin.

I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.

I should’ve never let you come here with me.

And then came the clicks; the rhythmic, sharp sound of heels striking the floor.

A single female figure emerged from the shadows, moving confidently into the spotlight before stopping right in front of Yujin’s bare, exposed body.

“Yujin-ah,” the woman said, in a soft, tender voice. “It’s been quite a long time, hasn’t it?”

“S-sunbae-nim?” Yujin asked in a ragged whisper. “Is that really you?”

I forced my head up. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I squinted through the blinding glare of the overhead lights until the silhouette sharpened.

IU… is the Queen of Clubs?

She didn’t wear a mask—just like Suzy, there was a golden crown on her head, and her black dress absorbed all the light from the stage like she was purposely shielding Yujin from the glares both above and below the stage.

“You’re so brave, sweetheart,” IU said gently, cupping Yujin’s face.

“Sunbae… I… I’m s-sorry,” Yujin choked out, leaning into the touch as if it were a life raft in a sea of despair. “I’m so sorry…”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” IU whispered, reaching up to untie Yujin’s blindfold, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough back then.” Yujin’s tears slowly slid down her cheeks as her vision cleared. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“No. You made me so proud.” IU brushed the tears away with her thumbs, her own eyes glassy with a reflection of her pain. “And standing here today, I’m still so proud. You sweet, loving girl. You strong, brave, brave woman.”

“I was burned, sunbae,” Yujin reminded her, her voice shaking as she cried. “I was a failure. I let you down. I let everyone down.”

“You weren’t burned, Yujin. You were traded,” she corrected, her gaze as loving as a mother’s. “Your sister bought the world with her own life and gave it back to you.”

Yujin shook her head in either disbelief or denial. “No. That’s impossible. He told me that Wonyoung had to replace me because I didn’t qualify.”

“That’s a lie, unnie!” Wonyoung yelled from the shadows. “It wasn’t your fault! Don’t say that!”

“It was my fault. I ruined everything for her. I wasn’t good enough and she suffered because of me. There’s no one to blame but—”

“No! That’s not true! It was—”

The Dealer clapped his hands loudly, cutting them off. “An Yujin is the only former Ace to ever make a comeback, ladies and gentlemen!” he announced, as if he wasn’t even mildly interested in hearing what they had to say. “This is her first and only Blackjack Auction—as her time as an Ace was cut short due to… very heartbreaking reasons.

“You see, An Yujin was drawn into the House of Clubs with great promise to become their newest rising star. But our dearest Jang Wonyoung… our lovely Jang Wonyoung… made the most noble decision…” He paused dramatically to let the room hold its breath. “To switch places with her beloved sister...”

“Unnie, don’t listen to him!” Wonyoung begged, her voice cracking.

The Dealer paused, pressing a gloved hand to his chest as if the memory physically pained him. The rowdy cheers of the crowd died down, and were instead replaced by a heavy, intrigued silence.

“It is a tale as old as time,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that echoed through the silent hall. “As you may know, the House of Clubs is known for its most unforgiving physical demands. Its intensity. Its ruthlessness. When the cards were drawn two years ago, it was An Yujin who held the Ace of Clubs. It was An Yujin who was destined to be the face and pride of IVE.”

He began to circle Yujin slowly, and all I could see from below was his shiny dress shoes clicking against the stage floor.

“But Wonyoung… oh, our sweet, precious Wonyoung,” the Dealer sighed, a sound of mock mourning. “She couldn’t bear the thought of her beloved childhood friend being forced to take such a heavy burden upon herself. She couldn’t stand the idea of Yujin’s spirit being crushed under the weight of such… unrealistic expectations. So she begged the Kings. She pleaded on her hands and knees, offering the only thing she had of value—herself.”

The audience was quiet. The only sound in the room was Wonyoung’s sobs leaking out from the distance.

“W-Wonyoung…” Yujin’s legs gave out, and she sank to her knees. “W-what is he talking about…?”

“Unnie,” Wonyoung cried. “Stop listening, please…”

Yujin’s voice trembled in disbelief. “You… you begged them…? Why…?”

“I just—”

“Why did you do it?” Yujin’s voice rose, cracking with a mix of grief and a heartbreaking rage. “Why would you do something so stupid? Why?! Tell me!”

“I couldn’t take it! I saw the videos! I saw what they did to you!”

Yujin’s tears ran down her face. “V-videos? How? What videos? Who showed you?”

“Manager Choi!” Wonyoung cried, her spirit visibly breaking under the confession. “I saw how much you struggled, Unnie. I saw it with my own eyes—I couldn’t—”

“And so you suffered in my place?!” Yujin yelled. “I’m your unnie! I’m your leader! It’s my job to protect you!”

“No!” Wonyoung shook her head frantically, her hair whipping around her face as she reached out one last time. “It was never meant to be you! They told me everything—they planned to—”

Her voice was abruptly cut off, smothered behind a gloved palm as the staff members finally forced her back into the shadows.

“Wonyoung?” Yujin asked, voice cracking with fear. “Wonyoung?!”

The silence that followed was more devastating than any screams, leaving Yujin kneeling alone in the spotlight with the truth that finally laid bare and bleeding on the stage.

“A life for a life! A soul for a soul!” the Dealer shouted, throwing his arms wide as if unveiling a masterpiece. “She offered to take Yujin’s place! She offered to bear the burden of being the Ace alone, to submit to the House of Spades—the highest, darkest, and most demanding court of them all—if only they would set Yujin free!”

He stopped directly in front of Yujin, tilting his head with a cruel, demented smile.

“And so they did. Yujin’s card was burned forever, and Jang Wonyoung ascended into our world to become the perfect High Ace of Spades you all know and love. Our Wonyoung took every bruise, every command, and every night of degradation so that her sister could remain untainted.”

The Dealer let out a dark, chilling chuckle that pulled every hair off my skin. “But destiny, my friends… oh yes, destiny always collects its debts. Tonight, the cards finally come to collect what is owed.”

He snapped his fingers; the sound echoed like a gunshot, silencing the world around me. “Show us the results!”

My vision swam, the harsh stage lights piercing through the sweat and tears stinging my eyes as I forced myself to blink.

John, are you still out there?

I’m sorry I ruined everything.

You tried to help us, and I messed it all up.

I’m not like you. I’m not the hero of this story. Of any story.

I have nothing to offer. Nothing to give. All I have is her.

Please save Yujin. I beg you.

Please—

BIDDING OVER An Yujin Results: [Team 1] 🅹 🅹 [Team 2] 🅹 [Team 3] 9 + 7 + 8 + 9 = 33 pts [Team 4] 8 + 8 + 8 + 7 = 31 pts [Team 5] 8 + 10 + 9 + 9 = 36 pts [Team 6] 8 + 7 + 9 + 7 = 31 pts [Team 9] 🅹 🅹 🅹 Total points: 131 + 6 🅹 (₩3,110,000,000)

It was like the weight of the entire world was lifted from my shoulders. My body dropped to the floor, every muscle fiber instantly letting go.

“My goodness!” the Dealer exclaimed, his voice pitching higher into a state of manic glee. “Six Jokers have come out to play tonight at half-time! An absolute treasury of chaos!”

The silence of the revelation was instantly shattered.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Three Jokers? For a half-time show?” a man from the front row screamed, his gold mask slipping as he stood up in outrage. “For a girl who isn’t even an Ace anymore? This is a joke! A farce!”

“It’s madness!” a woman shrieked from the back. “We wasted our high cards for nothing!”

“Hey Nine! You’re crazy! You’re insane!”

“This was orchestrated to rob the decks!”

But their greed was mere white noise compared to the sound coming from the wings.

“No! Take me instead!” Wonyoung begged, falling to her knees, tears dripping past her blindfold. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll take double the VIPs! I’ll do two rounds! Just let her go! Please, just let her go!”

“No!” Yujin yelled. “Don’t you dare!”

“Unnie, no! You can’t! You don’t have to do this! This isn’t your life anymore!”

“And taking my place was never supposed to be yours!”

“No! I won’t allow this!”

“You don’t have a say in this!” Yujin cried. “It was my choice!”

“Why?” Wonyoung shouted. “Why would you choose this? Why would you?”

The Dealer leaned into his microphone, his breathing hard and heavy like a predator savoring the scent of blood. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he purred, his eyes fixed on Wonyoung. “The bond of sisterhood. Isn’t it just… delicious?”

“You promised!” Wonyoung shrieked, her voice cracking as she fought against the arms restraining her. “You all promised you wouldn’t touch her! I did everything you asked! I gave you everything!”

The Dealer didn’t answer her. He simply stood there, basking in the anguish that no amount of money could ever buy.

It was then that I finally understood—this was the true currency of the Auction. Pain. Suffering. Despair. All masked behind a fancy veil of Blackjack and playing cards.

This was the sick, twisted game that the King of Spades lived for.

“A round of applause for Table Nine, my lovely patrons,” the Dealer finally announced, his voice booming with excitement. “For the legends who have surrendered not one, not two, but three Jokers for our beautiful An Yujin.”

He paced back toward Yujin, his shadow falling over her like the cloak of a grim reaper. “But it appears we have ourselves a bit of a predicament,” he mused, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. “Without allegiance to a House, their face cards would be meaningless—like a set of master keys without any locks to open.”

He leaned down, his mask inches from Yujin’s ear. “My dear,” he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly soft register. “Your duty to the House of Clubs was written on a card that has long since been reduced to ash. It would be most unfair to force you to represent a ghost of the past.”

He turned back to the audience, his eyes glinting with a new, wicked inspiration. “So folks, how about we let An Yujin choose her own House tonight?”

The audience roared again, a thunderous sound that shook the very foundation of the building.

“For the first and final time in this history—in this sacred moment—let us give her the agency to decide her own destiny!”

The applause was deafening, and the words echoed across the room like a death sentence wrapped in celebration.

But from the darkness behind us, three additional female figures began to emerge. Their heels clicked in perfect unison, echoing through the hall like a countdown.

They stepped into the light, each one draped in floor-length gowns that shimmered like jewels in the stage light.

“How poetic,” said a woman in a bright red shoulder-less dress, “The Ace who was forgiven… can’t seem to forgive herself.”

She slowly stepped before me—or rather, before Yujin. I couldn’t see her face from the angle, but something about her cold, sharp voice and her long, wavy hair felt so eerily familiar.

“An Yujin, we finally meet,” another woman in red joined in. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Yujin’s eyes widened, shaking with disbelief as they darted back and forth between the two of them. “Y-Yoona sunbae-nim? You’re… the Queen of Hearts…?”

Yoona nodded lovingly, as if they had already known each other. “I don’t know why you’re here, but come with me,” she said, her expression itself was a mask of sympathy. “His Majesty will protect you tonight.”

“Sunbae—I-I—”

“Come home, Yujin-ah,” IU said, holding Yujin’s hands to lift her to her feet. “Remember, in the House of Clubs, there are no victims, only performers. Our stage is a canvas, not a cage. Choose Clubs, and spread your wings again. The freedom from our House is a privilege that can never be bought or sold.”

“Sunbae…”

“An Yujin,” the Queen of Diamonds joined in, her voice like ice cracking under a winter moon. “I’ll say this once only. Diamonds are formed under the kind of pressure that would crush any human spirit.

“We do not offer freedom, and we certainly do not offer love. There is only power, and power comes from value. Total, undeniable worth that no man or woman can dare to take away from you. Will you choose to be a gem of utmost resilience, or are you still a little girl who cries for a hand to hold? Will you beg to be saved or shine brightly when facing the cruelty of this twisted world?”

The Dealer carefully watched the exchange, tilting his head like a curious bird. He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare interrupt the Queens. He simply basked in the tension, knowing that whatever Yujin chose, the house would always win regardless.

Yoona moved in from the other side, her red dress flowing like a river filled with rubies as she reached out, fingers hovering just inches from Yujin’s trembling hand.

“Choose love, Yujin-ah,” she whispered, her voice soft and warm like a sanctuary within the cold room. “In this transactional world, love is the only currency that doesn’t leave you with nothing. Love is the light that will guide you through the deepest darkness, the shield that will shatter the storm before it even touches your skin. Choose Hearts, and we will break the chains of this nightmare together. You’re not a soldier, you don’t need to fight anymore. Allow yourself to be cherished in all the ways that you deserve.”

“An Yujin,” Suzy’s voice cut through the air—sharp, harsh, and definitely unmistakable. “I won’t convince you to choose our House. You’ve seen what we are. Not anyone can become a Spade. Our grit was paid for by pain and sacrifice. By blood and tears.

“But a Spade doesn’t hide from the bruises. We turn them into armor. Our unwavering spirit was not given at birth—it is the brutal result of discipline, a choice made entirely by oneself, and a perseverance that defies all hardships. You can choose Hearts and walk through the night safe and sound. You can choose Clubs and relive the past that you was taken from you. Or you can choose Diamonds to mask your weakness with power—and call that strength.”

She leaned in, her golden crown glimmering like a halo of thorns.

“Or, you can choose Spades if you want to know what it means to truly be alive in a world that makes you wish you were dead. The choice is yours. In this wretched life, you can either crumble and fall, or play the hand that you were dealt. So trust your gut, but choose wisely. Choose yourself.”

“My, my, my,” the Dealer chuckled, clapping his hands together slowly. “What touching speeches. Truly, I am moved. To see the Queens fighting so passionately for a single soul… it really warms my heart.”

He stepped back, giving Yujin the stage as if he were handing it to her.

“But the clock is ticking, my dear. Please make your choice. Our lovely patrons await your word with bated breath.”

“Go back to your House!” a man roared, slamming his fist against a table. “It’s where you belong! Show us that Clubs performance!”

“Hearts! Choose Hearts, An Yujin!” a woman shrieked, her voice high and frantic. “You deserve better!”

“Diamonds! Choose Diamonds! Don’t let them ruin you!” others countered, their chants clashing in the air like waves hitting a cliffside.

“Spades! Spades! Spades!” The chant started in the back and rolled forward like a ritual. “Receive the punishment you deserve, An Yujin! You’ve been running for two years! Accept your fate! You know you want to be punished for your crimes!”

I looked toward the audience as my vision blurring in and out, somehow managing to catch sight of John. He wasn’t chanting. He wasn’t even smiling. He simply sat there, watching Yujin closely, casually tapping his watch while giving her a single, slow nod, as if he was ready, no matter what decision she made.

After a long moment, Yujin straightened her spine. The trembling in her lips stopped. She looked at IU, then Yoona, then the Queen of Diamonds whose face I still couldn’t see, and finally lingered on Suzy, who watched her carefully with sharp, piercing eyes.

“I choose,” she said, her voice clear and devoid of any hint of fear. “The House of Spades.”

The silence that followed was deafening, but it didn’t last. The audience erupted—not in applause, but in a predatory, primal howl.

Wonyoung’s scream was the only thing that pierced through it; a sound of absolute, soul-crushing heartbreak that shredded my own into a hundred pieces.

The Dealer’s smile was visible even through his mask—a wide, sinister grin of triumph. “It’s been decided,” he whispered, though his voice carried to every corner of the room. “Long live the House of Spades.”

Team 9 x Yujin: x1 Jack +10 321 (₩3,210,000,000)

“A Jack? Only one Jack?! They played three Jokers to clear the field just to play a single Jack? This is an insult!”

“They’re mocking us! They burned the highest cards in our decks to steal this girl! We wasted our bids for a performance that’s being stifled!”

“Where are the Kings?! You pay three billion won just to let a Jack handle her? What kind of cowardice is this?!”

“A once in a lifetime performance and this is how you choose to play it?!”

The Dealer let out a sharp, rhythmic clap that cut through the rising tide of chaos. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please, restrain your frustrations! It’s unbecoming of such distinguished guests. Now, believe me, I understand your frustration. To see six Jokers exit the decks only to be followed by the humblest of face cards… it feels like a slap to the face, doesn’t it?”

He stopped and spread his arms wide, addressing the entire room with a flourish of his silk coattails.

“But let us not forget the fundamental law of this sacred Auction! The victor is the author of the night. Whether they choose to play an army of Kings or a mere Jack, it is their choice—bought and paid for with a sum that is nothing to undermine.” He gestured toward the screen, where the 3.2 billion won figure continued to pulse. “Table Nine has won the right to dictate the terms of this round. If they wish to use a sledgehammer to crack a nut, who are we to argue?”

The chatter persisted, but the Dealer’s tone hardened.

“In this room, money is the only morality. And in this round, Table Nine has spent the most of it. The results are clear. An Yujin has chosen to serve the House of Spades. They have chosen a Jack. And as per the rules of the Auction, these choices are absolute. If any of you felt so strongly about the performance, you should have played your Jokers when you had the chance. But you didn’t. You held them for a greater purpose, and now you must watch the show as it was bought!”

He turned his back on the crowd and looked down at me, his smile returning, wider and more jagged than before. “Our Jack is ready, and our new Ace is waiting. Let us proceed!”

The lights cut to black, severing the past and present into two, leaving only the afterimage of his mask burned into my mind. In the sudden darkness, the air felt suffocating like it was heavy with the scent of lust and fear.

“Are you able to perform, Jack?” a voice asked from the shadows behind me.

My body moved before my mind could catch up, forcing myself to my knees. “Yes,” I stumbled.

A gloved hand materialized from the dark, presenting me with the silver tray like a floating limb. I grabbed a couple of the yellow pills and threw them into my mouth, swallowing them dry in one painful gulp, no longer having any luxury to hesitate or even question how many I’d already taken. They scraped against my throat like broken glass, leaving a bitter trail that made me gag after tasting it so many times, but I forced the nausea down as the person behind me gave me a final, firm shove toward the curtain.

I stumbled my way into the blinding white spotlight. The world screamed at me; colors became too vivid, sounds amplified into a chaotic roar, all while dozens of masked figures sat in the darkness beyond the stage like a gallery of lions waiting to be fed.

But then I saw her. And once I did, it was all I could see.

“Yujin!” I called out, running towards her before realizing my legs were moving.

Yujin’s body jerked, as if my voice had physically struck her. “Wonbin?” she asked, turning around.

She leaped into my arms, nearly knocking me to the ground. My hands desperately wrapped her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. The familiar scent of her hair and the perfume that still clung onto her skin sent me into a nostalgic daze.

Hell and home somehow became a single place.

“Yujin-ah,” I choked out, burying my face in her neck as I held her tightly. “Are you okay?”

She pulled me even closer, her nails digging into my flesh. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispered rapidly, her breath hot against my ear. “I’m okay, Wonbin. Don’t worry, hey—breathe—breathe—I’m okay.”

“Y-you’re okay,” I said, the relief so overwhelming my knees finally gave out. I sank to the floor, dragging her down with me until we were kneeling together in the spotlight. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“Wonbin-ah,” she whimpered, her hands clutching the back of my head, fingers twisting into my hair. “I was so scared. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m here,” I murmured against her skin, lips brushing the pulse that fluttered wildly in her throat. “I’m right here.”

The Dealer clicked his tongue dramatically. “Well would you look at that… a pair of lovebirds. What were the odds? Or did Team Nine know this was coming? Folks, it would appear that this may end up being great entertainment after all…”

Yujin frantically patted my face and my shoulders, as if checking for wounds. “Y-you’re a Jack of Spades?” she stammered. “What on earth happened?”

“They told me to join the game,” I panted. “Or else Mingyu would get what he wants.”

“He already got what he wanted. He led us straight into their hands.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault—I should’ve—”

She shook her head, eyes already watering. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine. We’re both okay.”

“No. It’s my fault that you’re back on this stage. It’s my fault that you became an Ace again.”

“Wonbin-ah,” she said, holding me still, forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me. It’s okay. I’m here with you. So it’s okay. If it’s with you, it’s okay.”

“Why did you pick Spades? How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t know,” she breathed. “I took a gamble. I trusted my gut like Suzy sunbae said to. I—I think she—I think she tried to give me a clue. Right before I chose, I saw her quickly glance at John before he nodded at me. I thought I was just imagining things, but it worked.”

“John really saved us again,” I said, pressing my forehead against hers. “I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if—”

“Don’t imagine,” she said, rubbing her nose against mine. “It didn’t happen. We’re together again.”

I held her tightly, terrified that letting go for even a second would make her slip away from me again. “Yujin, I was so scared to lose you.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t out of happiness. “You can never lose me,” she said, brushing my hair. “I’ll always be here next to you.”

For a fleeting moment, the audience didn’t exist. It was just us, two shipwrecked survivors clinging to each other in the eye of the storm.

But the silence didn’t last. The peace wasn’t real. It wasn’t an option. It never was.

As I held her, the relief washed over me in a hot, dizzying wave that wouldn’t stop. It kept rising, filling me up with a vengeful lust that I couldn’t control.

And I felt it in her, too.

Her skin was burning up against mine. She wasn’t just trembling from fear; she was vibrating. Her heart was hammering against my chest so hard it felt like it was trying to sync with the erratic rhythm of my own.

I pulled back just an inch to look at her. Her pupils were blown wide, swallowing the dark brown of her irises, and a flush was visibly creeping up her neck. Her lips were parted, breath coming in shallow pants that hit my skin in hot puffs.

“Yujin,” I breathed, my voice sounding like I’d been screaming for hours. “You’re burning up.”

She let out a shaky breath. “They gave me those pills. It’s been so long since I’ve had them. I feel weird, Wonbin. My skin feels hot. Everything is... so hot.”

“Me too,” I said, physically feeling the yellow pills rewiring my brain—all while Yuna’s pills still lingered like a vengeance.

Whatever sweetness was left in the moment began to rot. The concern I felt for her was mutating, twisting into a desperate, starving need that I couldn’t settle. The way she was looking at me—longingly, lovingly, with those big beautiful eyes that saw right past my soul—snapped the last bit of rational thought I had left.

My hands, which had been gently holding her waist, tightened on its own. I squeezed her flesh, feeling my fingers dig into the soft curve of her hips.

“Yujin,” I hissed through my teeth, the sensation of her body against mine sending what felt like actual electric shocks through me. “I feel so weird. I think I’m losing control.”

Yujin didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved closer, a soft moan escaping her throat that sounded nothing like the girl I knew.

“Touch me,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a desperate plea. “Touch me, please?”

“They’re watching.” I swallowed, but not resisting. “Everyone can see us.”

“Just do it.” She grabbed my wrists, forcing my hands harder against her body. “We have to give them a show anyways, don’t we?”

“I don’t want to,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want them to win.”

“It’s okay.” She squeezed herself over my hands. “If it’s with you, I want to. I want to show them. I want them to see what it’s supposed to look like.”

“Yujin,” I breathed, her touch forcing the hair on my arms to stand. “I don’t know when it started, but I think I—”

“Me too,” she said in a hush.

“What?”

“You don’t have to say it,” she said softly, brushing my hair. “I already know.”

“Y-you do?”

She nodded, pressing her forehead against mine. “I’ve felt it for a long time now.”

It was like a switch had flipped without our consent. Somehow, we weren’t just two scared captives anymore; we were two magnets snapping together.

“I want you,” she said, nodding assuringly. “I really do. I want you right now more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

I didn’t need to hear any more.

With just those words, I crashed my mouth onto hers.

My tongue forced her lips apart, and she met me with equal force, her arms locking around my neck, pulling me closer until there was absolutely zero space left between us.

“Wonbin,” she gasped against my mouth, breaking the kiss just to bite my lower lip. “I need you. I feel like I'm going to explode.”

“My body is moving on its own,” I growled, my hands sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing the soft flesh. “I can’t control myself. Those stupid pills—they’re making me—”

“You don’t want me?” she whimpered, breathless. “It’s only because of the pills?”

“No—it’s not that—”

“I want you,” she said, lunging forward, grinding herself against me. “Even without those stupid drugs, I still want you. I can’t stop wanting you.”

The crowd, the cameras, the masks—they all dissolved into mindless static. The only thing that existed was the fire in my veins and the girl writhing in my arms, begging me to ruin her for everyone to see. And I was about to oblige.

“Yujin—I—”

“You’re so hard,” she said, gasping as she found me between our bodies, feeling every inch of my length. “I’ve never felt you this hard before…”

I hated that the yellow pill was doing its job terrifyingly well. My erection was borderline painful, a throbbing pressure that demanded more of everything—but mostly, her.

“That feels so good,” I moaned, my head falling back as she stroked me slowly.

My hands roamed all over her body, as if taking the time to remind itself of the familiar softness and shape before finally slipping in between her thighs.

She was completely drenched in a way I’d never felt before.

“Yujin—you’re so wet,” I whispered, feeling the wetness seeping into my fingers before I even touched her skin. “Oh my god.”

“So are you. You’re dripping pre-cum everywhere,” she said in between breaths, spreading it all over me. “You’re making a mess.”

“You’re flooding my fingers,” I said, breaking the kiss to bury my face into the side of her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone, tasting the salt on her skin, while slipping my fingers right into her.

“I’m going crazy,” she said, moaning loudly. “I want you so bad, Wonbin-ah. I want everyone to see how much I want you.”

“You’re so beautiful, Yujin,” I slurred, running my tongue all over her soft breasts. “Everything about you is so beautiful. I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m yours,” she said, weaving her fingers into my hair, tugging me closer. “All of me, it’s all yours. Just take it. Keep it.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I dropped forward and pried her legs apart, pressing my face between her thighs to clean up the glistening ocean that coated her flesh, her taste making my new spin more than any drug ever could.

“Oh my god—” she shrieked, her legs bucking instantly the moment I sucked on her clit. The scream was torn from her throat, and her body shook violently against my face, her inner thighs clamping around my head like a vice.

She shuddered in my arms, her juices soaking my chin and lips. “Oh my god—this feeling—I forgot how it felt until now…”

But I didn’t stop. Whatever was in my system wouldn’t let me. Was it really even the pills causing me to follow its orders? Or did they just unlock something buried deep inside me? It was like my own desire was a runaway train, fueled by the taste of her release.

I kept going, my tongue working relentlessly against her folds, cleaning up the waves of her orgasm. At the same time, I slid two fingers deep inside her, curling it upwards as I continued licking her clit in circles.

“Wonbin, wait—hold on—ah!” she gasped, but her hands told a different story.

She grabbed her own tits, squeezing them roughly. It wasn’t a gentle caress—it was frantic, almost self-punishing.

“More,” she sobbed. “Keep going—it feels so good—oh god—I’m gonna come again—”

She continued grinding her pelvis against my face, chasing the rising lust between us while her hips kept snapping in a chaotic rhythm.

“Fuck—don’t stop—aaah!” she cried.

Before she could catch her breath, I grabbed her hips and flipped her over.

She landed on her hands and knees, presenting herself both to me and the silent, hungry audience beyond the lights. The view was devastating. Her entrance was completely soaked and glistening, still twitching in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I buried my face between her cheeks, my tongue diving straight for her other hole.

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed, her back arching so hard her I was afraid her spine would pop.

I licked her from behind with a desperate hunger, tasting every inch of her holes. Her scent was more intoxicating than I remembered, sending me into a euphoric high that no drug could ever emulate.

Yujin reached down between her legs, rubbing herself furiously, her hand moving in a blur as she ground against my face, her moans turning into a continuous, high-pitched yelp that filled the room.

“Wonbin-ah,” she wailed, her head thrashing side to side as my tongue swirled her holes without mercy. “Please. I need it. I need you inside me right now.”

I pulled back, breathless, my face completely wet with her juices. “Say it. Tell them what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she begged louder, looking back at me over her shoulder, her eyes wild and wide. “Please, just fuck me! Put it in! Right now!”

I didn’t even bother wiping my chin. I grabbed her hips and lined my cock against her dripping entrance. “I’m going to fuck your brains out, Yujin,” I growled, more to myself than to her. “In front of everyone.”

“Do it! Hurry!” she screamed. “Please—I want you to ruin me—ugh—”

I thrust forward, burying myself all the way inside her.

“Fuuuck!”

The sound was ripped from both our throats simultaneously.

It wasn’t our first time, and yet it somehow felt like it was. It was like everything in the world stopped and started making sense simultaneously.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groaned, gritting my teeth as I began thrusting into her. “You’re mine. All mine.”

“Harder!” she screamed, pushing back against me, meeting my movements with frantic desperation. “Please, show everyone that I belong to you! All of me!”

I fucked her roughly, driving into her with everything I had. It was like every thrust was a desperate attempt to erase the memory of any other Jack who might have touched her in the past—to burn myself into her very soul.

“I’m so crazy about you,” I cried, the confession tearing out of me as I slammed into her over and over. “I can’t live without you.”

“Me too,” she moaned, her head thrown back, hair sticking to her sweaty face. “I only want you. You can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want. If it’s you, I don’t care about anything.”

We were delirious, yelling obscenities and confessions in the same breath, our voices cracking, stripping away every secret we’d ever kept in our hearts.

I drove into her so hard that her arms finally gave out. She collapsed onto her stomach, but I didn’t stop. I followed her down, covering her body with mine, still buried deep inside her hole that was now leaking to the floor as I grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face into the mat and kept fucking her from above.

“Use my pussy,” she sobbed into the floor, her voice muffled but frantic. “Please. It’s all yours. It was made for you. Only for you.”

That broke me.

My body abandoned all rhythm, just pounding into her with an animalistic need that shouldn’t have existed inside me. She arched her back, screaming my name, her walls convulsing around my cock in a crushing grip.

“I’m coming!” she shrieked. “Wonbin, I’m coming again!” She shook violently beneath me, clamping down on me so hard I saw stars.

I pulled out just as the waves of her orgasm began to subside, leaving her gasping for air. But she didn’t rest. She scrambled around, crawling over to where I knelt. Her eyes were wild, fixated on my cock that was glistening with her juices and twitching with its own desperate need.

“I want to taste myself on your cock,” she whispered, licking her lips.

She didn’t wait for permission. She leaned forward and took me into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the head, tasting the mix of her own wetness and my pre-cum.

“I love it when you taste like me… it feels so right,” she moaned, licking me up and down my shaft. “Don’t you think so?”

“Fuck,” I hissed as she bobbed her head, taking my entire length down her throat. “It feels so good…”

For the first time ever, she gagged slightly, but she didn’t stop. She sucked me harder, her hand working the base, her eyes locked on mine in a way that felt so foreign.

“Yujin, wait, stop,” I gasped, grabbing her hair to pull her off. “I’m gonna—”

Before I could catch my breath, she climbed over me, straddling my hips. She lined me up with a desperate, shaky hand and sank down, impaling herself on me.

“Don’t come yet,” she moaned, throwing her head back as she began to ride me roughly. “Keep fucking me, okay? Fuck me forever like this, please?”

She bounced on me with a violence that shook my entire frame, her hands planted on my chest, nails digging into my skin while her eyes flicked towards the darkness beyond the stage lights.

“Sunbae,” she moaned out to the shadows. “Are you watching me? I learned everything from you. I’ll make our House proud.”

“You don’t have a House anymore, Yujin,” I gritted out, gripping her waist tightly to try and steady her erratic rhythm. “You’re not an Ace.”

“I am!” she cried, slamming her hips down harder, forcing a ragged groan from my throat. “This is who I really am, Wonbin. I belong here!”

She collapsed forward and crashed her mouth onto mine, our tongues fighting a battle of their own, tasting of sweat, lust, and desperation.

“No, Yujin—you don’t—” I gasped against her lips. “You’re not—”

“I am!” she snarled, suddenly pulling back. Her hands flew to my throat, wrapping around my neck. “And don’t you dare call me by my name, Jack.”

I stared up at her, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This wasn’t Yujin. Not the one that I knew.

“That rule doesn’t exist in Clubs, Yujin,” I choked out, prying at her fingers. “You’re confused. Look at me. I’m not really a Jack, and you’re not really an Ace.”

“I am!” she cried, eyes fluttering. “Fuck—you’re so deep! Fuck me properly, Jack. Do your fucking job. It’s all you’re good for!”

“Yujin, no—stop—”

Her hand suddenly flew across my face for the first time ever. “I said to not—”

And then her grip faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes like a spell had just been lifted. “W-Wonbin? Is that you?”

“Yes,” I said, holding her close as her chest heaved against mine. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry… I’m going crazy… You’re fucking me into insanity.”

“It’s not me,” I said, still pumping into her pussy that was now gushing. “It’s the drugs.”

She hooked her arms around my neck, pulling my face down to her tits. “No. It’s you. You make me so crazy. I’m so crazy about you. I can’t stop wishing you were mine. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, sucking on her nipples roughly. “I forgive you. No matter what you do, I’ll always forgive you, Yujin. I’m so happy I met you.”

“Wonbin, can you fuck me like I’m an Ace… please?” she begged, the aggression dissolving into pathetic need. “Make me remember how it feels just for tonight.”

I couldn’t understand why those words had any power, but for some reason, something awakened inside me, like a mark of a curse—one I wasn’t even sure came from the pills.

“You want to be fucked like an Ace? Fine.” I grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back, locking them there with one hand, and slammed my hips upward into her, hard.“But you chose Spades. Don’t forget that.”

Her head fell back, a gasp tearing from her throat. “Oh god—yes—I’m a Spade. That’s right. I’m a bad girl, and bad girls deserve to be punished. Make me your slave.”

We fell to the side, and I lifted her top leg high, hooking it over my shoulder, and began thrusting into her sideways.

“Fuck me, Wonbin,” she begged, her voice a broken whimper as she rubbed circles around her clit. “I’m your slave, use me in front of everyone. Let them watch everything.”

“You love being watched, don’t you?” I drove deeper into her, feeling every inch of her walls clenching against my length. “This is who you wished you were.”

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering. “This is who I really am.”

“You belong to me.” I growled. “They can only see because I’m letting them.”

“Yes! Please show them who I belong to! Show them who I am!”

We rolled again until I was hovering over her, pinning her to the mat. I spread her legs wide open, exposing everything to the blinding lights above.

“You’re my slave, Yujin,” I said, looking down at her flushed, ruined face. “Your body belongs to me. Not to them. Me.”

“Yes, it’s all yours,” she sobbed, reaching up to claw at my shoulders. “Use me until you come over and over again inside my pussy. That’s all I’m good for.”

I drove into her, every thrust feeling like a battle—a war to reclaim ourselves from this hell. Her tongue twirled around mine like it was their last dance together, and her chest pressed hard against mine, sweat and saliva mixed together in a veil of desire.

“Wonbin-ah! You’re fucking me so hard, it feels so good—” she screamed, her voice echoing too loudly in the cavernous room.

“You’re too loud,” I panted, panic spiking through the haze. “Wonyoung will—”

“I’m so sorry, Wonyoung,” she whimpered, her voice cracking into tiny pieces. She looked up at the ceiling, as if apologizing for her sins. “I’m so sorry that I’m stealing Wonbin from you. Unnie is so selfish, isn’t she? Will you forgive me, Wonyoung-ah?”

Her words sent chills through my spine, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Whatever controlled our bodies and minds drove us both deeper into the abyss.

Wonyoung.

Please don’t listen. Please don’t watch. Please don’t be out there.

This isn’t us.

Yujin and I aren’t in these bodies. They don’t belong to us anymore.

For the first time in my life, Wonyoung’s face was constantly being pushed out of my mind with every thrust, every tug and pull of Yujin’s pussy against every inch of my cock.

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung-ah,” Yujin sobbed while her hips jerked upwards to meet mine, betraying every single word she said. “I’m so sorry... Unnie is so bad... I love his cock too much... I can’t give it back...”

“Are you really sorry?” I gritted out, slamming into her while hating the way my body betrayed my heart. “You’re apologizing to her while you beg for my cock? You’re the one who started all of this that night!”

“No!” she cried, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arched into the thrust. “It wasn’t me… she asked me to do it…”

The words hit me, but I couldn’t stop. I just fucked her harder, as if that was all I was capable of anymore. “What? What do you mean?”

“That night… at the hotel…” Yujin wailed, thrashing beneath me, her eyes rolling back as I hit her spot with the tip of my cock. “Wonyoung asked me to do it as a favor. She asked me to come onto you. ”

“What do you mean? I was there. She didn’t—”

She shook her head, her eyes no longer able to stay open. “She texted me when she left to get Rei’s drinks…”

“W-what? Why? Why would she do that?”

“Because she wanted an excuse,” Yujin sobbed, grinding her hips up desperately. “She needed a reason to make you her slave to keep you by her side without breaking any rules. She thought if I seduced you, she could pretend to catch you and then punish you… then she could own you if you agreed. She gambled that you would.”

The revelation washed over me like a tsunami—not as betrayal, but as a crushing wave of sadness. A sadness so deep and endless that it felt like I was sinking to the bottom of an ocean.

That night. The guilt, the punishment of becoming her slave—was it not out of jealousy or control? Had Wonyoung really manipulated the entire situation just to keep me near her because she couldn’t figure out how else to love me?

“Did she really do all of that?” I whispered, the realization making my chest ache.

“She missed you so much,” Yujin cried, clamping her legs around my back. “I knew about you long before we ever met. She told me about you so many times when we were trainees. How her world fell apart when you left. How she was too scared to reach out to you after what happened. How she kept waiting for you to come back like you’d promised.”

“…What the hell are you talking about, Yujin? How did I not know any of this? Why didn’t she just tell me?”

“Wonyoung’s not the type of person to share her burden with anyone else. She’ll hold it in, no matter how much it breaks her. There were so many nights where she cried on my shoulders because she felt so guilty for what she was doing to you. I’m sorry, Wonbin—I kept it a secret from you too. I knew everything. When you came on our bus that day, I already knew who you were. She told me after the fansigning, how all her prayers came true, how she’d never been so happy in her life. But then she cried when she realized what it meant. She’s cried so many tears for you, so please don’t be mad at her… please don’t hate her…”

“How could I hate her?” I choked out, tears streaming down my face like a waterfall. “How could I ever do that?”

In that moment, all I knew was that I missed her. All I could think about was how much I missed her. I missed Wonyoung so much it felt like dying.

“She even asked me to keep you company whenever she was away. I promised that I would be there for you.” Yujin grabbed my face, pulling me down to kiss me messily, desperate to comfort me even as she used my body. “But I ruined it! I was just supposed just be a distraction, but I broke my promise! I’m addicted to you now, Wonbin! I can’t help it—”

It was like my throat could no longer form words properly. “This was all Wonyoung’s doing? Everything?”

“At first, yes,” Yujin cried, wrapping her legs tighter around my waist. “But now I can’t stop! I betrayed her! Punish me for betraying her, Wonbin! Fuck me harder because I’m a bad unnie!”

“This isn’t your fault, Yujin,” I growled, tears stinging my own eyes as I thrust.

“No! It is my fault! It’s all my fault! I ruined everything for her!” she screamed, scratching down my chest. “Punish me! I’m a bad girl!”

My body no longer cared for anything that my mind wanted. Just the thought of Wonyoung watching from the shadows, her plan spiraling into this drug-fueled wreckage—made it drive into Yujin with a violence that was born of pure grief.

“I love it! I love how it feels inside me! I’m sorry, Wonyoung, please forgive me for taking him! I can’t ever return him to you, I’ll die! I’ll die without his cock!”

The sound of her begging for forgiveness lit a fire in my brain that no longer listened to me. Suddenly, the image of the masked men, the Kings, the other faceless Jacks who had been on this stage before me... it all came rushing back.

I grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks to force her glazed eyes to lock onto mine.

“Apologize to me, too,” I snarled, my voice dripping with foreign possessiveness as my fingers gripped her throat firmly. “Apologize for letting the King of Clubs touch you. Apologize for fucking the other Jacks.”

“I’m so sorry!” she wailed, tears streaming down her temples and into her hair. “I’m sorry I let them fuck me!”

“Tell me who this belongs to!” I demanded, thrusting deep and holding it there.

“You! Only you!” She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me down until our chests were fused together. “I promise, Wonbin. I promise! Only you will fuck me from now on. Until forever. No one else.”

It was a vow made in hell. Was it romantic and carnal? Was it sealed with love or shame?

“Say it again,” I gasped, my control shattering into a million pieces.

“Only you,” she whispered, kissing me frantically. “I’m yours forever.”

And that was the breaking point.

There was a ringing in my ears as I poured myself into her, pulse after pulse, emptying everything I had—my fear, my anger, my love—straight into her. She screamed with me, shaking in a prolonged, aftershock that seemed to go on for eternity.

I’m sorry, Wonyoung, I thought, my mind fracturing as the pleasure drowned out the shame. I know why you did it. I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll understand us, too.

I collapsed backward, pulling out of her with a wet slide, and landed heavily on the padded mat. My chest heaved, my vision swimming with black spots.

But Yujin wasn’t done.

Before I could even close my eyes, she was moving. She crawled over me, her hair messily draped over her sweaty face, her eyes still blown wide with that terrifying, drug-induced hunger.

“No, don’t pass out,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Not yet.”

She lowered her head and took my softening cock into her mouth.

“Yujin—stop—” I cried, but I couldn’t even lift my arms to push her away.

She didn’t listen. She sucked with a monstrous intensity, her tongue working to push life back into me, drinking down the remnants of my soul. The sensation was overwhelming, but I was completely paralyzed by exhaustion.

The world started to shatter. The bright stage lights blurred into streaks of white. The last thing I felt was the wet, hot suction of her mouth and the desperate grip of her hand on my thigh, anchoring me to her even as I slipped away.

Then, the darkness finally took me. And I prayed that it would never let go.

--

“Wonyoung?”

My voice cracked, small and pathetic against the steady rhythm of the rain. I walked through the narrow, winding alley—the shortcut we had taken a thousand times together. It was our secret path, the one between the old bakery and the laundromat, where the smell of fabric softener usually mixed with the scent of yeast.

But that day, it just smelled like wet concrete and dust.

The rain didn’t just fall, it clung to everything. It covered the uneven pavement, creating little puddles that danced under the rusted overhangs of the closed shops. The grey sky felt low, like it was pressing down on the city, trying to squeeze the last bit of life out of it.

“Wonyoung? Are you here?” I asked again, my eyes darting frantically behind the stacked crates, behind the vending machine, even checking the dark corners where she liked to hide when she wanted to scare me.

Silence. Just the rain.

It was the last hour of my last day in Seoul. My suitcases were lined up by the door, and my dad was checking his watch every two minutes, pacing the living room, waiting for the airport bus.

And Wonyoung was nowhere to be found.

I’d begged my parents for just twenty more minutes. Just one last lap, I’d told them. I just need to find something I lost. Something really important to me.

“Wonyoung-ah!” I shouted, louder this time.

I waited for her to pop out, to laugh, to call me stupid, to ask why I was making such a big deal. I waited for something—for anything.

But the only response was the faint swish of a tail from atop a stack of discarded cardboard boxes.

“Meeko?” I called out.

Meeko was the neighborhood stray, a scruffy, orange-and-black tabby that usually hissed at anyone who wasn’t Wonyoung.

I crouched down, ignoring the way the damp cold seeped instantly through the knees of my jeans, and tilted my umbrella, creating a small, dry shelter between us.

“Meeko,” I whispered. “Come here.”

He blinked at me with bored, yellow eyes, not moving at first. Instead, he just stared, as if judging me for having the audacity to be there without her.

But then, perhaps sensing the pathetic desperation radiating off me, he slowly uncurled. He hopped down, his paws making wet prints on the pavement as he approached me.

“I’m leaving soon, Meeko,” I reached a hand out, and surprisingly, he bumped his wet nose against my knuckles. “I’ll never see you again.”

He turned and rubbed his cheek against my fingers, purring loudly.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t eat trash anymore. Wait for Wonyoung to bring you the good sausages.”

He meowed—a short, almost sad sound, as if he understood me. Or at least, somehow caught a small glimpse how I felt.

I let out a wet laugh. “I know, I know. You won’t miss me. You only tolerated me because I was always there while she fed you,” I said, scratching behind his ears, blinking back the heat in my eyes. “That’s okay. I won’t miss you either.”

It was a lie. I was going to miss the cat. I was going to miss the alley. I was going to miss the smell of the rain on this street.

“Have you seen Wonyoung?” I asked him, my voice breaking on her name. “I’ve been looking for her everywhere. The playground is empty. The stationery store is closed. She’s not answering her phone.”

Meeko just stared at me, blinking slowly against the drizzle.

“I just want to say goodbye,” I choked out, the tears finally slipping out, mixing with the rain on my cheeks. “I can’t leave without saying goodbye. I just want her to know I didn’t want to go. Do you think she hates me?”

I looked at the empty alley one last time, hoping—praying—that I’d see her familiar silhouette running toward me. But there was nothing. Just the grey, endless rain.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. My mom. Time was up.

I looked back down at the cat.

“Well,” I wiped my nose with my sleeve, sniffing loudly. “If I can’t find her… will you send her my regards?”

Meeko tilted his head.

“Can you tell her that I’ll miss her?” I breathed, feeling my heart shatter in my chest. “Tell her I’m sorry, Meeko. And tell her—t-tell her t-that I promise I’ll come back to find her one day.”

I stood up, and left the umbrella there, propped up against the boxes so he would have a dry spot to wait for her.

“Don’t let her forget me, okay?”

I turned around and walked away, leaving the only friend I could find in the rain—hoping the message would somehow reach the one who didn’t want to be found.

--

When I finally opened my eyes, the world was detached from itself, melting and reforming like oil on water. Reality wasn’t a stream anymore—it was a fever dream that refused to break.

To my left, Arin bathed in the light with a long black whip coiling around her arm. Three grown men in business suits crawled at her feet, leashed and whimpering, scrambling over each other just to kiss the tips of her toes. She didn’t even look down, her expression was rather bored, like a trainer ignoring her dogs.

The scene smeared sideways, bleeding into a pool of soft, golden light where Hanni sat on a velvet chair in the center of the Hearts quadrant.

She looked small—fragile even—as three tall, lanky European men swarmed her, treating her body like a treasure, their hands moving with a possessive, carnal worship.

“That’s it,” Hanni giggled as one man buried his face between her thighs. “Love me more. Show me how much you love me.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, urging him deeper while the other two men devoured her neck and chest. It was a dizzying display of lustful gluttony—but she was clearly loving every second of it. She was euphoric, high on the power of having three powerful men reduced to starving animals at her feet.

“Princess,” one whispered against her skin, worshipping her collarbone. “You’re incredible.”

“I know,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around the man kneeling before her. “I’m your princess, right? Your dirty little princess.”

She grabbed the face of the man on her left and pulled him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, sharing the saliva from her mouth while her hips ground relentlessly against the face of the man between her legs. It looked terrifyingly natural, like this wasn’t her first or even tenth time.

“Kiss me,” she commanded the third man, reaching out blindly with her free hand to wrap around his cock. “Let me feel how hard you are for me.”

“Yes, baby,” he groaned, leaning in to lick the side of her neck as she jerked him off. “We are all yours.”

My vision slowly faded to white.

Hanni was now on her knees, her small body sandwiched between the men. One stood behind her, driving into her with a brutal force that made her head snap back with every thrust.

“Oh god—yes! Just like that!” she screamed, her eyes rolling back. “Don’t stop! Please—keep fucking me like that!”

The third man was on his knees in front of her with his mouth latched onto her nipple, his hands kneading her breasts roughly as he sucked her fervently.

“Take it all, babygirl,” the man behind her growled, slapping her ass. “Take every inch like a good girl.”

She gagged on the cock in her mouth but didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands reaching back to claw at the man fucking her, pulling him in deeper.

Then, the lights flared too bright, washing her out in a blinding wave of white. The sound of her pleasure stretched and distorted, and nausea rolled in my gut as the floor seemed to drop out from under me.

The darkness rushed back in, swallowing Hanni, Arin, the men, and the stage.

I fell into the void again, weightless and empty.

--

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the third bidding of the third round! Please, please, take your seats and make yourselves comfortable!”

The Dealer’s voice vibrated through the speakers, forcing my eyes open while the cold mat pressed against my cheek.

The stage had cleared; the silhouettes of Hanni and Arin were gone, replaced by a new, singular spotlight that carved a harsh circle in the darkness. The screen flickered, the white heart and diamond dissolving into a single white club.

“Our next Ace needs no introduction, as this will be her fifth Blackjack Auction,” the Dealer announced. “Her history runs deep. Yes, very deep indeed… You see, before she found her home in the House of Clubs, she was a legend in the House of Spades—”

“Oh I love this slut!” someone yelled from the crowd.

“Easily one of the best Aces in history! She takes cock like she was born for it!”

“Back off, this bitch is mine!”

The Dealer chuckled, ignoring the interruptions. “But then came the historic trade… and the House of Clubs gained a sex goddess, while the House of Spades… well, they moved on to new toys.” He stopped center stage, his smile widening beneath the mask. “Folks, please welcome… the White Ace of Clubs… Miyeon of (G)I-DLE!”

The room cheered with the kind of excitement that sounded more like a reunion than a reveal as Miyeon stepped into the light, her white collar shining brightly under the harsh beams, causing her skin to almost glow. The shadow of her silouhette printed on the floor like a stamp, showing off every line and curve of her slender body.

The Dealer tilted the microphone toward her lips as she stood perfectly still with her hands clasped behind her back.

“My dear,” he purred. “You’ve been enjoying the freedom of the House of Clubs for quite some time now. But tell me… do you ever miss your roots?”

“I…” Miyeon swallowed hard, as if debating if she wanted to admit it. “I do.”

He moved the mic closer to her. “Speak up, darling. What exactly do you miss?”

She lifted her head, her eyes seemingly scanning the crowd but seeing nothing through the white blindfold. “I miss… being controlled.”

The crowd erupted again, a wave of approval washing over the stage like it was ready to swallow it.

“She wants it!”

“You know what they say! Once a Spade, always a Spade!”

“Break her again and again so she never forgets!”

The Dealer smiled, satisfied. “And what is it that you want tonight, Miyeon? To show off your newfound skills again? Or do you want… something else?”

Miyeon’s knees pressed together slightly as a flush crept up her neck.

“Both. I want to give the crowd the performance of a lifetime, but I… also want to be punished,” she whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession she couldn’t hold back. “My body… I don’t want it to belong to me tonight. I want to be forced to serve someone again.”

The Dealer threw his arms wide, basking in the animalistic frenzy of the room. “You heard her, folks! An Ace of Clubs begging to be ruined! There have been no words more honest ever said on stage than these! So, who among you has the discipline to put her back in her place?!”

“Ten!” someone screamed instantly. “We’re bidding all tens!”

“Fuck that, pull out your Jokers! We’re not playing around anymore!”

“We’ll give her exactly what she’s missing!”

The bidding screen lit up, numbers flying faster than I could track.

“Show us the results!” the Dealer roared.

BIDDING OVER Miyeon ♣ Results: [Team 1] 9 + 10 + 4 + 10 = 33 pts [Team 4] 9 + 7 + 9 + 9 = 34 pts [Team 5] 🅹 (Tied) [Team 7] 🅹 (Tied) [Team 8] 10 + 10 + 9 + 9 = 38 pts Total points: 105 + 2 🅹 (₩1,650,000,000)

The gasps and murmurs started instantly.

“Oh my! It would seem we have our first Sudden Death of the night!” the Dealer gasped, staring up at the screen. “Now, I know what you’re all thinking. We saw Jokers fly during An Yujin’s round earlier, yes.” He pointed at the scoreboard, where Team 5 and Team 7 were flashing in sync. “But this? This is different. This is a true stalemate. One Joker against one Joker. A perfect tie.”

He spread his hands wide. “And in the event of a tie, the cards cancel each other out. Those Jokers are burned—gone forever—and we have no victor. Which means we have to do this the hard way.”

He snapped his fingers, and the screen locked out every other team. “Teams 5 and 7, you are now the only ones left in the arena. To break this deadlock, you must bid again. Highest point total takes the Ace and the loser walks away with nothing but a wasted Joker…”

He grinned. “Thirty seconds… fight!”

Miyeon’s fingers wrestled each other behind her back as her thighs squeezed and rubbed together, as if the anticipation was killing her more than the crowd’s restlessness. In those thirty seconds, some tables left out of frustration for having lost the round, while others sat back and watched the Sudden Death like a sports game.

And as the timer slowly dropped to zero, my haze in my head grew stronger, until my vision was all but a blur of lights and lines.

Sudden Death results: [Team 5] 9 + 8 + 8 + 10 = 35 pts [Team 7] 10 + 9 + 9 + 9 = 37 pts (Winner!) Sudden death points: 72 (₩720,000,000) Final points: 177 + 2 🅹 (₩2,370,000,000) Team 7 x Miyeon: x1 Queen x4 Kings (+95) 332 (₩3,320,000,000)

--

“So this is great Miyeon,” a man with silvering hair said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She’s a lot smaller than she looks on camera.”

Miyeon gasped, her head falling back as she shivered under his touch.

“She certainly seems eager to please,” the second King noted, stepping up behind her. He reached out and brushed the back of his hand down her cheek, then lower, tracing the line of her neck.

“She loves the attention,” the third King chuckled, taking his jacket off. “Don’t you, honey? You like having all these eyes on you.”

“Yes… ah… yes, Master…” Miyeon whimpered, leaning into their touch.

“Look at me when you speak,” he ordered without raising his voice.

She snapped her head up, her blindfolded face flushed with excitement.

The fourth King reached out, running a hand down the front of her white collar, tugging on it lightly. “You said you wanted to be forced?” he said, as his other hand tracing the curve of her breasts before kneading her flesh possessively. “That’s a dangerous thing to ask for, sweetheart.”

“I-I don’t want to be a person tonight,” Miyeon whispered, her voice trembling but filled with a dirty, desperate need. “I just want… I want you to use me. Don’t ask me for permission for anything.”

The second King stepped up, chuckling dryly as he took off his watch. “You sure about that? We don’t exactly play nice.”

“I’m sure,” she breathed, parting her legs slightly even though no one had touched her there yet. “Please. Break me until I fold.”

“A little too desperate for my taste,” the first King said, sounding almost bored as he ran a thumb over her collarbone, causing her to slowly drop to her knees in submission. “This is just messy—whatever this is.”

A voice suddenly cut through the air—calm, melodic, yet dripping with disappointment. “Is this truly how you wish to represent the House of Clubs, Cho Miyeon?”

IU stepped into the light from her throne in the back of the stage, radiating an elegant aura of a soft, feminine authority.

“Sunbae-nim…” Miyeon stammered. “I’m sorry, please forgive me...”

IU stopped a few feet away, looking down at Miyeon with a sigh as she crossed her arms—not in anger, but in pity.

“Stand up, Miyeon-ah. You are the White Ace of Clubs. Do not fall to the floor because a man gave you a little attention. It’s unbecoming. Have some dignity.”

She reached out a hand, intending to signal Miyeon to rise, but the first King stepped into her path.

IU froze, her hand hovering in the air. “Can I help you?”

The King smiled beneath his mask. “We didn’t play a Queen card so you could give her a lecture.”

She smirked, but she clearly did not find it amusing in the slightest. “You must be mistaken. Queens are face cards, not Aces,” she said, putting her hand down. “I am not on the menu.”

“What a pity,” the second King said, stepping closer. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re telling me that such a scrumptious meal cannot be ordered?”

She flinched, pulling back sharply. “Do not ever touch me.”

“Why not?” the third King asked, trapping her between them. “You’re a woman, aren’t you? A very beautiful one, at that. I’ve watched your movies. Broker, Dream… you always play the sweet, tough girl. I’ve always wondered if that’s just an act.”

“I am the Queen of Clubs,” she said, firmly. “I suggest you show some respect if you want this show to continue.”

“Oh, but we are showing respect,” the first King said, his hand sliding boldly around her waist, pulling her flush against his suit. “Won’t you play nice… pretty please?”

IU gasped, her eyes widening out of anger. “Let go of me,” she warned, as she tried to pull away.

But he held firm, merely smiling at her resistance.

“Will you reject us in front of your Ace?” the fourth King leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Is that the lesson you want to teach her? That defiance is an option? That the House of Clubs doesn’t honor its Kings?”

And then, from the floor, Miyeon spoke up. “No…” she said, her voice trembling as she reached out, her fingers brushing the hem of IU’s long dress. “Don’t get involved, sunbae-nim. You’re not an Ace anymore. This life is already behind you.”

IU looked down, lips parting in an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“It should only be me,” Miyeon continued, tilting her head back. “I’m the bad girl, sunbae… I’m ruining our House… the House that welcomed me with open arms and treated me so well. The House that taught me so much and gave me everything. I’m such a bad girl… and… bad girls… deserve to be punished…”

IU blinked, her composure wavering. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t recite those words. You’re a Club, now. There are no bad girls in our House—”

“No.” Miyeon shook her head, her voice filled with a twisted mix of shame and arousal. “I’ll always be a Spade…”

“Why?” IU whispered, as if those words struck her harder than anything the men could say. “Even after all these years?”

“Yes,” Miyeon cried softly. “I’m so sorry, sunbae. It’s who I am. I can’t be like you.”

The first King chuckled, running his hand up IU’s back. “Join her, sweetheart. Join your Ace in her journey of shame. I know you like this, deep down inside of your little perfect body. The fact that we don’t care about your crown.”

IU looked at the King, then down at Miyeon, and I could see the fight slowly leave her eyes.

“We’ll make a Spade out of you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck while he slipped a few tablets into her mouth.

She swallowed willingly. “How dare you,” she shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut.

“On your knees now,” another King ordered.

For a second, I thought she would slap him, but instead, she slowly sank to the floor next to Miyeon, eyes locked onto his like she was being hypnotized. The mere sight broke my brain beyond repair.

He grinned devilishly. “Good girl. This is who you really are.”

It wasn’t long before the four of them had already undone their belts and had their pants spilled around their legs. Miyeon’s hand had already started moving between her thighs as her eyes widened at the sight, while IU’s face remained composed, her crown still sitting proudly on her head.

“Well?” one of them asked, looking down at IU. “We don’t have all night, Your Majesty.”

She simply stared at him as the reality of what she had agreed to seemed to crash down on her. “You’re disgusting.”

Next to her, the second King stepped up to Miyeon and grabbed a handful of her hair. “You said you wanted to be forced, didn’t you?” he growled, yanking her head back, exposing more of her throat under the collar. “So don’t even look at me. Just open your mouth.”

Miyeon whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. “Y-yes, Mast—”

He didn’t wait for her to open fully—he shoved his cock against her lips, forcing them apart, and thrust his hips forward.

“Agh!” she choked, her hands flying up to grab his thighs as he filled her mouth.

Her wetness seeped into his pants from her fingers as he held her head in place and started pumping into her face.

“Damn, that’s a soft tongue you’ve got,” he groaned.

“See that?” the first King sneered, nudging IU’s cheek with his the tip of his cock. “Your Ace is getting exactly what she asked for. Are you going to join her, or do I have to make you?”

IU flinched at the touch. The sound of Miyeon gagging next to her was horrific—a wet, suffocating noise that stripped away any glamour that remained on stage, but it made her lean forward reluctantly, opening her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut as if taking bitter medicine.

“Finally,” the King grunted, grabbing the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her head down into him.

IU gagged, her eyes flying open in shock as he hit the back of her throat.

“Do it properly,” he ordered, pumping into her face roughly. “I know you know what you’re doing. You’re a Queen, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mmph!” IU tried to pull back, but he held her firm, using her mouth like a sleeve.

“Let’s see if they’re ready for the real show,” the third King muttered as he reached down to Miyeon, slipped his hand between her thighs.

He shoved two fingers inside her wetness, pumping them in time with the cock in her mouth. “Fuck,” he laughed. “She’s soaking wet. She’s practically dripping onto the floor.”

Miyeon moaned loudly, her voice muffled around the shaft, but her hips bucked involuntarily against his hand.

The fourth King stepped up to IU, placing a large hand over her crotch, rubbing her firmly through the layers of her expensive dress and lace panties. She jolted—letting out a high-pitched squeak against the first King’s cock.

“Take your clothes off,” he ordered.

IU pulled off his cock for a split second, gasping for air. She looked up at him, her face now flushed, eyes growing hazy as the pills slowly did their jobs.

With a shaking hand, she reached up and grabbed the neckline of her dress and yanked the top down, peeling the fabric off her shoulders and chest, along with her bra, until they both pooled at her waist, leaving her upper body completely exposed. Then, she grabbed the hem of the dress and scrunched it up, bunching the silk around her hips until her legs were bare.

“Good,” the King grinned, admiring her exposed form right before shoving himself back into her mouth. “Now you look like you belong here.”

The third King somehow slid underneath Miyeon, prying her legs further apart to bury his face directly into her pussy.

“Ahh—wait!” she screamed, her head thrown back as his tongue brushed her dripping folds.

Miyeon arched her back hard, legs shaking wildly as she was caught between the mouth on her pussy and the cock in her throat, dissolving into a whimpering mess of carnal pleasure.

“Your turn, Your Highness,” the fourth King murmured.

He grabbed IU by the waist and hauled her up onto her knees, shoving her face back onto the second King’s cock, right before kneeling behind her, burying his face between her cheeks. The second king reached for her crown and threw it onto the floor, the clank vibrated through the stage as her title was snatched right from her head.

“Wai—” IU tried to protest—but her mouth was filled instantly.

He didn’t listen. Nobody did.

He sucked on her loudly, gripping her ass to spread it apart while the other slammed himself into her throat, letting saliva spill out with every thrust. To the side, Miyeon’s screams grew louder as the man slurped her from below while her hips moved on their own, her hand desperately stroking a cock as if it was the only thing keeping her balanced.

The stage became a blur of motion, and the longer I watched, the dizzier I got.

They rotated positions seamlessly, passing the women between them like party favors. One moment IU was facefucking the first King until tears leaked from her eyes, the next she was on her back with the third King’s fingers curling deep inside her, legs shaking violently. At one point, she was heaving on the floor in front of him, while the other three took turns having their way with Miyeon in the air, two of them holding her body afloat while the other fucked her relentlessly before rotating positions.

And then somehow, the scene shifted again.

The Kings pulled back for a breath, leaving the two of them on their hands and knees in the center of the spotlight, facing each other. Their cheeks were completely flushed, lips swollen and slick with saliva.

“Kiss,” the first King ordered. “Show us the bond of Clubs.”

They leaned in and obeyed without a second thought. It was messy and desperate, a sinful exchange of a collection of spit and juices shared by the six of them. Their tongues tangled, saliva stringing between them as they seemingly sought comfort in the shared degradation.

“Sunbae,” Miyeon moaned, saliva dripping out the sides of her lips. “It feels so good. My pussy feels so good.”

“You’re doing so good,” IU said, kissing her frantically. “I’m so proud of you, Miyeon-ah.”

“I miss this feeling so much, sunbae. Don’t you? Don’t you miss being a Spade?”

Two Kings stepped up to their sides, shoving their cocks into the their mouths mid-kiss, breaking them apart only to fill them up again, over and over.

“Flip them,” the first King ordered.

They grabbed them and threw them onto their backs, spread theirs legs wide. Two settled between their legs, burying their faces in their crotches, sucking and licking with a hunger that sent chills down my spine.

The other two men climbed over their chests, straddling their faces.

“Open up,” one of them ordered, dropping his balls onto her chin.

IU glared at him, breathless and disheveled. “I’m not a dog.”

“Then why is your tongue out?” he laughed, grinding his hips down.

She couldn’t help it. Her body betrayed her, forcing her to lick him, eventually running her tongue between his cheeks as he commanded, all while the man between her legs made her toes curl with his mouth and fingers.

“Stubborn bitch,” the King growled, enjoying the fight.

“Don’t—talk to me that way—I’m a Queen!”

“Stubborn bitch-Queen,” he corrected.

“Look at your Ace,” the other King pointed out. “She’s completely gone. A shell of a body.”

They were right. Miyeon was crying out in pure ecstasy, her hands tangling in the hair of the man whose tongue was buried deep inside her while her mouth worked furiously on the man above her, sucking and licking everything that came in contact with her face from above.

“Sunbae! Sunbae!” Miyeon cried, breaking her rhythm to gasp for air. “I can’t stop! I should fold but I don’t want it to end! I’m so disgraceful, aren’t I? The House of Clubs is filled with whores, aren’t we?”

“Don’t say that,” IU snapped, even as she shuddered from the tongue swirling around her clit. “This isn’t us. This isn’t what we are.”

“Bring out the cuffs,” the first King said, standing up and wiping himself off. “The Queen needs a little more persuasion.”

The scene kept blurring in and out, like a film reel skipping frames.

When my focus returned, both Miyeon and IU were on their sides, their wrists bound tightly behind their backs with the leather cuffs, looking like matching dolls.

Miyeon was screaming—a high, continuous wail of euphoria. Two Kings were inside her at once. One was behind her, thrusting into her ass with a brutal rhythm, while the other was in front of her, ravaging her dripping pussy.

“Oh god, you’re fucking me so hard,” she sobbed, her head thrashing against the mat as she was being stretched from both ends. “I’m going to be ruined by you. I’ll never be the same again.”

I blinked again and everything shifted once more.

The Kings had switched partners. IU was now the one crying in pleasure as two of them filled her holes simultaneously.

“Use me,” IU cried, her eyes widening, yet they were empty, as if the pills had completely taken over. “Punish me. I’m a pathetic excuse for a Queen—”

All I could see was a man’s hand reaching out, stuffing a pair of panties into her mouth to silence her. She moaned through the fabric, her cries muffling as they continued hammering into her like animals.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” I heard a voice growl through the haze. “Even tighter than the Ace.”

“Break her more. Make her remember who she really is.”

My head spun. I couldn’t tell whose limb belonged to whom anymore. The sounds—the slaps, the moans, the slobbering of wetness—merged into a singular, deafening hum.

“Look at her go,” a King laughed, his voice sounding miles away. “The Queen loves it. Look at her face.”

“I’m… I’m not…” IU’s voice was weak, punctuated by sharp gasps. “I’m not… ahhh!”

“You are,” the voice growled back. “You’re taking two cocks like you were born for it. Tell me you love it.”

“No… I hate it…”

“Do you?” he mocked. “Fold then if you hate it so much, I dare you!”

Everything shifted again.

Through the haze, I saw them on top of each other, their bodies pressed flush, Miyeon’s porcelain skin against IU’s black silk dress. They were grinding their pussies together frantically, lips locked in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues tangling as if they were trying to breathe for each other.

But they weren’t alone. Beneath IU, a King lay flat on the stage, his hips thrusting upward, driving deep into her other hole from below, and above Miyeon, another King hammered into her ass from behind.

“So fucking slutty,” the King above Miyeon roared, slapping her bouncing cheeks. “Taste your Queen’s spit while I destroy your tight little asshole!”

“Mmph!” Miyeon wailed into IU’s mouth, her fingers digging into her shoulders.

IU gasped, breaking the kiss to sob into Miyeon’s neck. “Miyeon-ah… I’m gonna come if you keep fucking me like this…”

“We’re whores, sunbae!” Miyeon cried, grinding harder against IU’s clit as wetness spilled all over their skin. “Let’s just accept it! We’re just fuckholes for them to use and it feels so good!”

“No…” IU wept, arching her back as the man below pumped deep into her asshole. “I’m not a Spade anymore… that was so long ago… I don’t want to remember it…”

“It’s okay, sunbae,” Miyeon said, kissing her messily. “I know how it feels. I feel it every day. Once a Spade, always a Spade.”

She shook her head, shutting her eyes. “No… no…”

“Clubs or Spades, you’re both filthy little sluts,” the King below grunted. “Now get up. We’re not done.”

My mind no longer functioned properly, but I thought I saw IU being lifted. Her legs were wrapped tightly around the waist of the King facing her, her small arms clinging to his shoulders for dear life, while the other King stood behind her, gripping her hips to anchor her.

She was sandwiched between them, feet dangling helplessly, completely at their mercy.

“Open up, Your Highness!” the King in front of her roared, slamming into her pussy while the one behind drove into her ass.

She screamed, her head thrown back, neck straining. “Oh god—not like this—”

“Tell us what you are!” the one behind her growled, biting her shoulder.

“…I’m a cock sheath,” IU sobbed, bouncing with the impact. “I’m a filthy whore disguised as royalty… I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I can’t hide it anymore! Please don’t watch me like this—”

Her voice was stopped as his lips crashed against hers, his tongue invading her mouth like he was dragging hers out for punishment. She leaned even closer, letting saliva and juices splash between their chins and cheeks.

To her left, Miyeon was straddling two Kings at once, her hips spread wide as she impaled herself on two upright cocks simultaneously.

“Oh god!” Miyeon screamed, her hands gripping a pair of shoulders for leverage as she slammed herself up and down, taking them both—one in her pussy, one in her ass—riding them in a frantic rhythm that made her eyes roll back into her head. “I’m coming again—I’m gonna come again!”

The King whose cock was buried in her pussy reached up, his large hand wrapping around her throat, choking her mid-bounce. “Look at you,” he growled, squeezing tight enough to make her gasp. “Bouncing on two cocks at once and still just getting wetter by the second.”

“It feels so good, Master. You’re filling me completely. Thank you for using my holes.”

“Deeper!” the bottom King groaned, grabbing her hips and pulling her down harder onto his shaft.

“No… it’s already so deep… you’re so big that it’s hitting spots I’ve never felt before…” Miyeon squealed in delight.

He spat directly onto her face. “You like being spit on while you get split in half, don’t you?”

“Yes! Ahh—” she choked out, her face flushed as she rode them harder, mixing her sweat with his spit. “You’re gonna break me in half like this… I can’t take much more…”

“You can and you will,” the other King laughed from behind her, watching her ass swallow his length completely. “Keep fucking yourself like this. Use both of your holes. One for the House of Clubs, the other for the House of Spades.”

“Yes, Master!” Miyeon’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Please use my ass and my pussy to your liking!”

The sounds merged—IU’s desperate, broken wails as she was paraded around, stuffed from both ends, mixing with the wet, animalistic noises of Miyeon choking herself and riding the two men. It was a deranged symphony of lust and sin, playing like background music in a horror film happening right before my eyes.

“I’m close. Don’t let them go. Hold them down.”

“Please come! Come for me, Masters!”

“Paint my insides with your cum, please!”

“Keep going, fuck me until I pass out!”

“As you wish, Queen.”

“I’m coming!”

“Deeper!”

“Take it!”

“Please… no more… I can’t hold it…”

“You don’t have to hold it. Come all you want. Come your brains out.”

The Kings groaned in unison, driving deep one final time.

Miyeon screamed as she was flooded from both ends, her body spasming uncontrollably, while IU threw her head back, a silent scream of shock escaping her lips as she felt the hot jets of cum filling her pussy and her ass simultaneously. Her eyes rolled back, toes curling, her entire body locking up in an orgasm so intense it looked painful.

They held them there for a long moment, ensuring every drop was deposited. Then, one by one, the Kings pulled out, watching their cum drip out of the respective holes.

Miyeon rolled on her side, twitching, as cum leaked from her stretched openings, spilling on the mat beneath her. She was smiling—a dazed, broken smile that didn’t even look human anymore.

Meanwhile, IU lay flat on her stomach, her sweaty face pressed into the floor. Her pussy was clenching onto nothing and her ass was gaping, dripping white fluids that ran down her thighs as she trembled, gasping for air.

The Kings stood over them, zipping up their pants, looking down at the mess they had made.

“Well then,” one said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Long live the Queen.”

IU lifted her head weakly, as if she tried to say something, but all that came out was a soft, broken whimper as she collapsed back into the puddle of cum.

--

“Ladies and gentlemen… we now approach the finale of the third round.”

The Dealer let the sentence hang just long enough for everyone in the room to take their seats again after another short reception.

“Please, get comfortable,” he continued, adjusting his cuffs. “Because things might start getting… a bit intense in this last round, as always.”

The spotlight above the Spades quadrant brightened, sharpening into a hard white circle.

“We are but one more performance away from approaching the fourth and final round of the night. But please do not worry, we aren’t anywhere close to being done…” He paced the stage slowly, unable to suppress his excitement. “Up until recently, our next Ace held her crown as the Black Ace of Spades for quite some time…”

The screams grew louder, but he raised a hand as if conducting them, instigating the frenzy further with a flick of his wrist. “The House of Spades ranks their Aces based on performance, not seniority. A title is not a birthright. It is a privilege—earned, defended, and, when necessary… taken. That’s right, folks. Her position has been recently claimed by another. And tonight, she wears the collar of someone else.”

He turned toward the stage with a slow, theatrical bow. “My dear patrons… allow me to present to you…” The audience could no longer hold their tongues or applause. “The Red Ace of Spades… Karina of aespa!”

Karina stepped into the light like it hurt her to move. She walked forward slowly, the red collar hugging her throat like it was choking her, and for a second it looked less like an accessory and more like a wound. Her blindfold was the same shade of red, tied cleanly at the back of her head, and her lipstick matched so perfectly it felt intentional—like the House had dressed her up like a painting of shame.

The contrast between her pale skin and the decorations of red made her look unreal—like a succubus or a vampire in a human body. She was downright devastating to look at, and it was painfully obvious that her beauty sent shockwaves through the room, because the crowd didn’t clap the way they clapped for the other stages. It wasn’t an applause—it was an uproar.

Men leaned forward, abandoning their drinks and women stared, mouths slightly open. The hunger in the room was so overwhelming it made me nauseous.

The Dealer watched her reach center stage, letting her stand there exposed for a moment longer than necessary. Then he stopped at her side and dipped his head toward the mic again.

“My dear,” he said, sweetly condescending, “just last year you were the star of the entire Auction. The High Ace of Spades, revered by the entire world. And yet today, you stand before us as Red while another wears your collar around her neck. Any words for our audience?”

Karina’s face didn’t even twitch. “I’m sorry for disappointing our guests,” she said, her voice low and shaky. “I’ll make it up to everyone. I promise.”

Those exact words lit the room on fire.

“Oh my God,” a man near the front groaned, like he was in pain. “That voice—holy shit. What a sexy voice.”

“She’s still a beauty even in disgrace,” another said, shaking his head in disbelief. “If anything, it makes her hotter. God damn, man.”

The Dealer smiled, taking a slow step forward as if reminding the crowd of something important. “Never forget, my dear patrons—an Ace is not something you decide to become. The title exists for a reason, and the House of Spades does not tolerate mediocrity. It does not reward effort. It rewards results.”

He turned his head slightly toward Karina, like she was standing proof of his point. “And when an Ace falls short… the House ensures the lesson is learned.”

The crowd broke again—louder, nastier—like they’d just been given permission to actually enjoy it.

“Fuck,” someone hissed from the crowd. “She’s got a better body than anyone I’ve ever seen. Those huge tits and milky thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I don’t care what the score is,” another voice said, slurring. “I’m going bankrupt for her.”

“This bitch is worth every penny,” a younger guest laughed, leaning into his friend. “Look at her. A fucking sex doll made to be used.”

“I want her to look at me!” a woman yelled. “Take the blindfold off! Let her see us!”

“Show us the results already!” someone shouted, pounding the table hard enough to rattle glasses.

From the distance, I saw Sora stand so abruptly her chair nearly fell backward. John’s hand caught her forearm immediately, guiding her back down with a quiet firmness that didn’t need words.

She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t relax either. Her shoulders stayed locked and her hands gripped the edge of the table like she was holding herself there by force.

Sora. John. It’s Karina. It’s why you’re here. Please win. You have to. Use all your Jokers.

On stage, the Dealer tilted the mic toward Karina again, voice dripping with that same mockery. “How does it feel to fall so far from grace?”

Karina swallowed hard, the movement visible in her throat.

“I’m ready,” she said, the coldness in her tone somehow made it worse. “I’ve failed myself, and now I will accept the consequences.”

“Spoken like someone who remembers what the title means. A true Spade, no matter Red or Black.” His smile sharpened dangerously. “Show us the results!”

BIDDING OVER Karina ♠ Results: [Team 1] 🅹 [Team 2] 9 + 9 + 9 + 9 = 36 pts [Team 3] 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 +🅹 (Tied) [Team 4] 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 40 pts [Team 7] 9 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 39 pts [Team 8] 9 + 9 + 10 + 10 = 38 pts [Team 9] 🅹 + 🅹 + 🅹 +🅹 = (Tied) Total points: 153 + 8 🅹 (₩3,930,000,000)

A collective gasp ripped through the audience. People stood up, craning their necks, as whispers erupted like wildfire.

“Oh my,” the Dealer gasped, as he stepped back from the podium, staring up at the screen as if the numbers were burning his eyes. “That is a lot of points and a lot of Jokers…”

“No,” I whispered, praying that my eyes were deceiving me. “No. Not a tie. Anything but a tie.”

The Dealer let out a breathless laugh that echoed through the stunned ballroom. “Another Sudden Death, ladies and gentlemen!”

No. They only have one Joker left because of me. Please, don’t let this happen. Not like this, please.

“Between Teams Three and Nine, who have both played, the absolute highest hand possible! Four Jokers! Two Teams! Who will rise victorious?”

He walked to the edge of the stage, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as his mask caught the lights above.

“Two teams! Two titans! Both willing to burn everything they have for a single Ace! But there can be no ties in this Auction! The rules are absolute!”

He snapped his fingers, and the screen turned a blood-red, the numbers resetting to a terrifying, empty zero between the two stalemated teams.

“Who will rise victorious from the ashes?” he said, before pausing dramatically. “Thirty seconds. Fight for your life.”

The floor beneath me felt like a trapdoor that had just swung open.

They were here for Karina. They came to this hellhole, played these sick games, and spent all of this money to save Karina. But because of me—because I dragged Yujin into this mess with me—they were about to lose her.

How cruel was this world? How worthless was my life that even if I chose to die, there was nothing I could do to put a stop to this?

Sudden Death Results: [Team 3] 🅹 + 🅹 (Winner!) [Team 9] 🅹 Sudden Death points: 3 🅹 (₩900,000,000) Final total: 153 + 11 🅹 (₩4,830,000,000)

It felt like someone had torn my stomach straight out through my throat.

For a moment, there was silence, an overwhelming, crushing silence—but I couldn’t tell if the world had actually gone quiet or if my mind had simply stopped processing sound.

People stood to clap and cheer, but the only thing I heard, the only thing that broke through the chaos—was Sora’s scream.

A sound so heartbreaking and horrifying that it felt like it was peeling the skin from my bones.

“Jimin-ah!” she shrieked, her once warm voice shattered into a thousand pieces. “No! No, no, no! Please, no!”

John, James, and Jake moved immediately, grabbing at her shoulders, her arms, trying to hold her back. But she was beyond reason—lunging toward the stage like a wounded animal, clawing at the air between them.

My body protested so violently to the sight that I wanted to throw up.

The woman who’d been so calm, so kind, so serene just hours ago was now breaking apart in front of everyone. The woman whose smile brought peace to every pair of eyes it reached was falling from grace before a crowd of strangers.

On stage, Karina froze. Her head snapped toward the sound before her body went rigid. Even from the distance, I could see the exact moment the recognition hit her—the way her shoulders locked and the way her breathing visibly stopped.

Her lips parted below her blindfold, forming a single word I couldn’t hear: Unnie?

“You can’t!” Sora screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. “You can’t do this to her! She doesn’t deserve this! No! Please, no! Not my Jimin!”

“Oh dear,” the Dealer said from the stage, his tone dripping with mockery as he pressed a hand to his chest. “It appears we have a bit of an alcohol problem here.”

“I won’t let you touch her!” Sora’s voice rose higher, more frantic. “I won’t let you! Do you hear me?! Don’t you dare touch her! I’ll kill you!”

She thrashed against the arms holding her, nearly breaking free for a second before James pulled her back.

“Let us?” The Dealer’s voice turned sharp. “Why, the rules of the Auction are clear, my love. Winners take all.” He gestured toward the winning table. “Your team surrendered a respectable amount of money, but I’m afraid it simply wasn’t enough.”

“Sit down already!” a man’s voice called out from somewhere behind them. “You’re embarrassing yourself!”

“Yeah, you lost fair and square,” another voice added, bored and dismissive. “Stop whining about it.”

“Besides, didn’t your team already snipe An Yujin’s round from the rest of us? You got your win. Be grateful and shut up.”

“We came here to be entertained, not to watch you play hero.”

“I don’t give a shit what you came here for!” Sora screamed at them, her composure completely shattered. “You’re vile! You’re all fucking pathetic, disgusting excuses for humans! All of you! Every single one of you can go rot in hell!”

On stage, Karina’s hands were shaking violently at her sides. Her whole body trembled, but she still hadn’t moved or spoken. She just looked in the direction of Sora’s voice with an expression of pure devastation.

“I suggest you sit down,” the Dealer said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “This is your final warning.”

“Let’s do another round! ” Sora’s voice cracked completely, tears streaming down her face now, visible even beneath the mask. “Please just sell us more Jokers! I know you have them! We’ll buy them all! Everything has a price here, doesn’t it?!”

“That’s not how this works,” he replied coldly. “The round is closed.”

“John—tell them! Tell them we’ll buy more!” she pleaded desperately, shaking his arms. “Please, I’m begging you! Don’t let this happen to her! Please, John!”

John stayed silent, his jaw clenched tight, but he didn’t move.

He knew. We all knew.

It was over.

Sora’s voice broke into pure anguish as she turned back to the stage. “Then take me instead!”

The words ripped out of her throat so loud they silenced the murmured laughter in the room. Even the Dealer paused.

She ripped her mask off, throwing it onto the table. Her face was wet with tears, eyes wild and desperate, but her beauty actually took my breath away.

“Take me!” she screamed, stepping forward, pushing James’s hands away. “Let her go and take me! I’ll do it! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll be the Ace—just let her go!”

“No!” Karina finally screamed from the stage, finding her voice. “Absolutely not! I won’t allow it!”

“Madam.” The Dealer looked Sora up and down. “Do you truly believe you can simply… volunteer to be an Ace?”

“I’m offering you a trade!” Sora cried, shaking. “A life for a life! A soul for a soul! I’ll trade mine for hers!”

“You insult us.” He scoffed into the microphone. “An Ace is not merely a body to be swapped out at a whim. They are handpicked by the Kings themselves. They undergo months and years of rigorous discipline, training, and refinement to earn that title. It is a prestigious title, one that requires perfection.”

He stepped closer to the edge of the stage, looking down at her like a teacher scolding a child.

“You are a civilian. You have no training. And clearly no discipline. To think you could simply step onto this stage and perform at the level of our esteemed Aces is… frankly, laughable.”

The audience, however, disagreed.

“I don’t know about that,” a man at the next table commented, leaning back in his chair with a low whistle. “She’s got a better body than all of the Aces I’ve seen tonight including that one.”

“Seriously,” another guest agreed, eyes glued to Sora’s figure in her black dress. “She’s wasted in the audience. I’d bid on her in a heartbeat.”

“Hey Dealer!” someone shouted from the back. “I’ll put five Jokers on the crying one! She looks like she’d scream real nice!”

“Put them on stage together! Let them fuck each other since they’re so in love!”

Sora didn’t even flinch at the comments. She just stared at the Dealer, her chest heaving, a desperate hope flickering in her eyes.

“We do not cater to the whims of the mob!” the Dealer snapped, straightening his jacket with a look of distaste. “We have standards here. You are not an Ace, and you never will be. You are simply a guest who has forgotten her place.”

“Please! I’ll sign any contract! I’ll do whatever it takes!”

“Enough! This has ceased to be amusing.” He raised a hand. “Guards! This guest is disrupting the integrity of the Auction,” he snarled, turning his back on her. “Remove her immediately.”

“No! No, please!” Sora’s voice pitched into pure panic as security began closing in. “I’ll do anything! Please! Don’t do this her, please!”

Security reached the table; an army of black suits and blank silver masks, the same that brought Yujin and I back here to begin with.

“Hey!” James barked, trying to pull one of the guards back. “Get off of her!”

“Get your goddamn hands off her!” Jake joined in, grabbing at another guard’s arm.

More guards appeared from nowhere, and the three of them were overpowered in seconds. Black-gloved hands yanked them backward, dragging them toward the exit like they were nothing, like they didn’t matter at all in the overall plan of the system.

“Jimin!” Sora sobbed, her voice breaking into shattered, desperate pieces as they pulled her away. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! This is all my fault! I should have—I should have—I’ll come back for you! I promise! I swear on my life! I won’t give up! Just wait for me! I’ll find a way—I’ll do whatever it takes!”

On stage, Karina finally moved. She took one shaky step forward, her hands reaching out uselessly. “Unnie—”

Her voice grew more desperate with every word, like she was trying to reach across an impossible distance. Like if she just screamed loud enough, she could undo what had already been done.

“I won’t abandon you! I’m coming back! I promise I’ll come back!”

Karina’s whole body shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might collapse.

“It’s okay, Unnie,” she said, in a voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m an Ace of Spades. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

And then the doors closed.

Karina stood frozen, her arms still outstretched toward where Sora had been.

And all I could hear was the echo of those words, still ringing in my ears like a ghost that refused to leave.

It’s okay, Unnie.

“Our apologies for such a rude interruption,” he said, moving back to the front of the stage. “Now… please show us, Table Three… your face cards.”

The screen lit up.

It wasn’t okay.

End of Chapter 15.

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, but as you can see, it was jampacked :') Hope you guys think it was worth the wait. Thank you for reading as always!

“I am breathing,” you say, swallowing hard. “I’m just calculating how many months of rent are currently hanging from that chandelier.”

She looks up with you. “And what’s the verdict?”

“I’m going with maybe 86. Minimum.”

“And max?”

“Somewhere in the hundreds, surely.”

“How about we stop doing math?” She leans into you. “You’re my human shield tonight, remember?”

Yes, you remember. Of course you remember, but unfortunately, the shield is already cracking.

“If anyone asks,” you say, scanning the room, “I’m telling them I’m the entertainment.”

This, of course, is very believable considering how much of a clown you look like next to her.

You watch as a dozen pairs of eyes glide over Karina like she’s a limited-edition asset, and to nobody’s surprise, it takes exactly thirty seconds for the first son-of-someone to appear.

“Yoo Jimin-ssi,” he says excitedly, as if her name itself is a down payment to his next apartment complex. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

She smiles and bows politely while covering her chest. He’s visibly disappointed.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you again,” she says, although you truly wonder if she actually remembers who he is.

He glances at you with the kind of look rich people reserve for valet staff. “And you are…?”

“Her emotional support employee,” you mutter.

Karina’s mouth twitches. “He’s a good friend of mine,” she corrects. “We work together.”

The man’s eyes do a quick calculation of your net worth based on your shoes, and looks back at her like he’d just received permission to flirt. “I’m Lee Daesung. My father—”

“I know who your father is,” Karina interrupts pleasantly, like she’s just complimenting his tie. “He’s the one who keeps calling mine to ‘catch up’ but somehow never forgets to mention that you’re single now.”

Daesung laughs too loudly, causing her to nearly flinch. He’s already failing the audition.

A second man slides in. Then a third.

They descend on her like vultures in fancy designer suits and shiny million-dollar watches. The sons of board members, the heirs to generational fortunes, the type of “promising young executives” her father wants to merge portfolios with.

They smile at you—polite yet dismissive smiles—before physically maneuvering their shoulders to box you out. Somehow, you’re slowly, strategically pushed away from your own date.

“Jimin-ssi, did you summer in Como this year?”

“Jimin-ssi, you simply must see the new gallery opening.”

“Jimin-ssi, pardon my forwardness, but your father mentioned that you broke up with your high school sweetheart?”

You stand there, holding her bag for half a second, then her drink, then nothing, then eventually the remnants of your own dignity, which isn’t much.

She flashes you an apologetic look over the shoulder of a man whose belt costs more than ten times your life insurance payout, but is then swept away by the tide of social obligation and familial piety.

So much for human shield, you think.

You step back, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray just to have something to do with your hands so that you don’t end up throwing them at some billionaire’s son.

That’s when you see her.

Across the room, standing like an ice sculpture, is Winter. She’s wearing all white, practically glowing in the sea of black suits and dresses.

Her ex is also there, of course. He’s dressed like he’s auditioning for Most Punchable Man of the Year, one hand over her back like he’s guiding her through an angry crowd. Except the crowd isn’t what she needs to be saved from. It’s him. He’s the problem.

He’s your problem.

Winter tilts her head as she listens to him talk about something to someone. God, you hate that. Why does she even care about what he has to say?

You know that it makes no sense to feel this way, but your jaw tightens anyway. Jealousy claws up your throat, and all you can do is wash it down with expensive champagne.

It shouldn’t even matter. You came here with Karina, the woman who laughs at your dumb jokes and listens to your work rants like they’re Ted Talks. The girl who looks at you with soft eyes and wears your cheap gift on her five-to-six digit handbags. You should be focused on her.

But instead, your eyes are glued to the way Winter’s ex’s thumb brushes the bare skin of her shoulder, and that makes you want to walk over there and break his hand.

“You’re doing it again,” a voice purrs beside you.

You don’t jump—you’re used to it now.

Ningning appears next to you, sipping a martini. She has no date. She doesn’t need one—she’s treating all the men in the room like a buffet and sampling freely. If anything, having a date would be detrimental.

“I’m not doing anything,” you mutter, taking another drink from a passing server.

She steps closer to you, voice dropping. “He looks smug, doesn’t he? Thinking he’s the king of the castle.”

“He looks like he owns her,” you say, the words tasting more bitter than the liquor.

“Relax,” Ningning says, clinking her glass against yours. “The night is still young. We haven’t even sprung the trap yet.”

You open your mouth to ask what trap, exactly, but she doesn’t even look at you—her attention already flew past your shoulder.

You turn—and immediately feel like you’re about to get arrested.

Standing there, right behind you, is Yuna.

The first thing that you notice is that she looks good. Insanely good. She’s wearing a dress that is simply not shy to show off her absolutely ridiculous proportions. She’s ethereal—she’s a renowned model for a reason, and seeing her now in person makes you finally understand why.

“Ning Yizhuo, is that you?” Yuna says, her voice mockingly bright and airy. “What a pleasure. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the filters.”

Ningning’s expression shifts into a smile that is terrifyingly artificial, even by her standards. “Shin Yuna!” she exclaims. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, I love your dress. My grandmother has a tablecloth just like it.”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t even flicker. “It’s vintage Dior. But I wouldn’t expect you to know that. You seem more of a fast-fashion girly.”

“You know, speaking of fast—I saw your campaign before it got pulled,” Ningning says sweetly. “You’re truly so brave. To wear that color with your skin tone.”

Yuna steps closer, clutching her champagne glass. “The campaign didn’t get pulled. It was reimagined.” Her eyes narrow. “But it’s funny—ever since you crawled out of whatever Instagram DM they found you from, all our billboard spots suddenly belong to Aespa.”

“That’s the magic of working with a real Creative Director,” Ningning hums. “Kim Minjeong knows talent when she sees it. But you wouldn’t get understand. We know Ryujin only hires family.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of messy game you’re playing to get your boss the top spot, but just a heads up—if you play dirty, people will eventually smell it.”

“Don’t worry,” Ningning chirps, batting her eyelashes. “I shower often. You should try it sometime. We can smell all the married executives underneath that perfume. What is it—Chanel No.5?”

Yuna’s grip on her glass tightens. “Careful,” she says, dropping the bubbly act. “Heels are tricky on this floor. Would be so embarrassing if you suddenly tripped and broke something. Like your nose.”

Ningning leans in just another centimeter. “Good news—it’s real, so it’ll heal,” she says, then pulls back with a smirk. “Enjoy the food, Yuna. I hear they have sour grapes. Your favorite.”

Yuna holds the stare for one second longer before flipping her hair and turning away.

Ningning keeps smiling until she disappears into the crowd. “Bitch,” she mutters, her face instantly dropping into a scowl.

You blink, trying to process whether all of that was scary or arousing. “You guys really do not like each other.”

“Did you see her shoes?” she hisses. “Last season. Embarrassing.”

She downs the rest of her champagne in one go, then her eyes snap back to you. “Anyway. Forget about that rat.” She nods past your shoulder. “Look who’s coming.”

You look toward the center of the room, where two women have just entered, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

One of them is excruciatingly doll-like, with a smile that looks both sweet and terrifyingly practiced. The other has a sharp, charismatic gaze and a stride so confident it feels like she owns the entire building and is considering evicting everyone else by midnight.

“Who are they?” you ask, unable to even blink. “And why is everyone staring at them like they’re royalty?”

“That,” Ningning says, swirling her drink, “is the competition.”

“Competition,” you repeat. “Like… our company’s competition? Or your competition. Because you seem to have a lot of those.”

“Both.” She points a manicured nail discreetly. “Meet Jang Wonyoung and An Yujin. The crown jewels of IVE Corp.”

You glance again. Jang Wonyoung is already doing the whole smile-and-wave thing—soft laughs, perfect eye contact, hands on forearms like she’s collecting alliances one touch at a time. An Yujin stays half a step behind in a permanent, sweet smile, scanning the room like she’s identifying friends from foes with just one glance.

“Wonyoung is the face—handles the press, the image, the dazzling. Yujin is the muscle—handles the strategy, the execution, the burying of bodies.”

You’re still staring. “So one smiles and one murders.”

Ningning leans her chin on her hand, watching them work the room in perfect sync. “Exactly. They’re a perfect unit. They don’t fight—they just win. That’s what the Chairman wishes Winter and Karina were—if they weren’t so busy playing ‘who has more childhood trauma’ and fighting over scraps of validation.”

She takes a sip of her drink, her gaze drifting back to Winter, who is currently being steered by her ex toward a group of investors like a prize poodle.

“Instead, he has a fractured dynasty of daddy issues,” Ningning murmurs. “But luckily for him, he does have us.”

“What, two underpaid interns?”

“Batman and Catwoman,” she corrects. “Except you’re not rich.”

A sigh involuntarily escapes you. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Don’t worry. At least I’m hot,” she adds, taking a sip. “Especially in a leather suit.”

Before you can ask if she actually owns one, the double doors swing open again.

The Chairman has arrived.

Winter’s father isn’t a large man, but he always sucks the air out of the room like a vacuum. Ever since his “minor heart procedure” last year—which was definitely major surgery, judging by the stock dip—he’s been walking with a cane that he clearly doesn’t need anymore. Nowadays, he uses it less for support and more like a scepter to whack people out of the way.

On his arm is Giselle. She looks triumphant, clinging to him like she’s physically tethered to his wallet, soaking in the camera lights and the whispers.

“Look at her,” Ningning says, delighted. “She’s glowing. Or maybe that’s just from all the diamonds she bought with Aespa’s cash reserves.”

The Chairman steers her through the crowd like he’s showing off a new acquisition. You watch closely as the camera flashes speed up the more she waves.

He introduces her to Winter, who looks like she’s trying to swallow a lemon whole but bows politely—a full 45 degrees.

Then, he introduces her to the ex.

“And this is Minjeong’s boyfriend,” the Chairman says proudly. “He came to join us all the way from London.”

You immediately want to jump off the balcony.

The ex smiles—that smooth, practiced smile that makes you want to physically tear off—then takes Giselle’s hand and bows low, not just shaking it, but lifting it to kiss her knuckles.

“Did you see that?” Ningning hisses, gripping your wrist hard enough to leave a mark.

“See what? The performative kiss-assery?”

“His thumb,” she whispers, her voice tight with excitement. “He caressed her palm. Right in front of Winter.”

You look again. Winter is staring at them. She saw it too. Her face is pale, her jaw locked tight, but she says nothing. She can’t. Not in front of the father she’s so terrified of disappointing.

“God, I love it.” Ningning exhales. “This is messier than reality television.”

A shark-like grin spreads across her face, but something on the other side of the room suddenly catches her attention. “Okay, stay put,” she says, already moving. “I need to check the perimeter. Don’t die of jealousy while I’m gone.”

“For what—Ning, wait!” you hiss.

But she’s already slipped away into the shadows, leaving you standing alone with a potted fern that looks like it’s laughing at you.

After a few minutes of silently fuming and wishing you had another drink, a hand gently touches your elbow.

It’s Karina.

She looks exhausted. Not physically, but socially, like she’s just run a marathon of small talk.

“Karina,” you breathe, relaxing immediately.

She slides into the space beside you, using your body as a shield against the room. “Hide me,” she murmurs, pressing her shoulder against yours. “I’ve shaken hands with three people who didn’t know my name and one who called me Winter.”

“Who would mistaken Glinda for the Wicked Witch of the West?” you ask, pulling her closer.

“My face hurts from smiling.” She sighs, resting her forehead briefly against your arm. “Is my eye twitching? Be honest—do I look crazy?”

You look down at her. She looks perfect—terrifyingly so.

“Yeah,” you say, letting the alcohol take the wheel. “Crazy pretty.”

Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth to say something—maybe a thank you, maybe a deflection—but a voice cuts through the moment, as if the universe has a strict policy against nice things.

“Miss Yoo.”

She pulls away from you instantly.

A man in a sharp suit—one of her father’s assistants—is standing there, looking impatient, to say the least. He looks at you with the expression of someone scraping gum off their shoe, then ignores you entirely.

“Your father is asking for you,” he says to her, checking his watch. “The dinner ceremony is starting soon. He expects you at the main table.”

“Of course,” she says, straightening her back. “Be right there.”

Karina takes a breath, then looks back at you. “Let’s go,” she says lightly.

You blink. “Me? I’m not allowed over there. You know that.”

She reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist in a way that makes your pulse jump. “Sure you do. You’re my human shield, remember?”

The transition from cocktail hour to sit-down-and-be judged is immediate. You move to follow Karina toward the main dining area, trying to purposely lag behind, aiming for a table near the kitchen where you can eat bread rolls in anonymity, but Karina has a death grip on your elbow.

So instead, you harness all your strength to ignore every pair of eyes glaring at you before finally arriving at the head table—just as Karina’s father is taking his seat.

He looks up, eyes beaming the moment he sees her. “Jimin-ah!” he says, standing to greet her. “There you are. I was just telling the Kangs about your time in Paris.”

Then his eyes slide to you. “Oh, and who is this?” he asks, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you with the Choi family?”

“Appa,” Karina interjects, her smile bright but the tendons in her neck are visibly tight. “This is my good friend. We met at work.”

Her father’s eyebrows lift just a fraction as she tells him your name.

“Is that so?” he says, shaking your hand firmly. “A pleasure to meet you. And which firm do you represent?”

You open your mouth to construct a vague, impressive-sounding lie, but Karina beats you to it, her chin tilting up in that stubborn way she usually reserves for when Winter has something bad to say about you.

“He works with us,” she says, confidently. “With Minjeong.”

“Minjeong?” He looks at you again, searching for the luxury watch or the expensive cufflinks that would make this acceptable. He finds neither. “In what capacity?”

“He’s an intern. In Creative.”

The temperature around the table basically drops ten thousand degrees.

Her father’s smile doesn’t vanish, but something dies in his eyes. He stares at you. Then at Karina. Then back at you. It’s not even anger; it’s confusion, as if Karina has brought a stray dog to a dog show expecting it to win.

“An intern,” he repeats.

At the next chair over, Winter pauses mid-sip of her water. Beside her, her ex leans back in his chair, watching the scene unfold like it’s his favorite sitcom.

“He’s incredibly bright and talented,” Karina adds quickly, stepping slightly in front of you. “Uncle loved his work on the holiday campaign. He personally approved the copy.”

“The Chairman also loves the janitorial staff when the floors are clean,” her father counters, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register meant only for family ears. “That does not mean he wants to eat dinner with them.”

“He’s also done some great—”

“Jimin-ah, look around you.” He leans in closer to Karina, lowering his voice further. “Felix Lee is sitting three tables away. The heir to Enhypen Group and both of his brothers are all here and currently single. Of all the men in this room—men who own islands, men who could merge portfolios with ours—you brought him?”

“I brought someone whose conversation and presence I actually enjoy,” she snaps back, quiet but sharp. “Would you prefer I bring Julian Kim so we can discuss his yacht insurance for three hours?”

“I would prefer you bring someone who doesn’t depreciate your market value just by standing next to you,” her father hisses.

Her breath stutters. “Market value?”

“This is a statement, Jimin. And the statement you are making is that you do not take your future seriously.”

“Appa, he is my guest,” she says, voice shaking now. “It would be incredibly rude to move him last minute—”

“No. It is rude,” her father corrects, “to seat staff next to the Chairman. It insults the board. And it insults me.”

Karina opens her mouth to argue like she’s one sentence away from nuking her own inheritance, but you touch her arm lightly, silencing her.

Then you turn to her father and bow. Lower than you’ve ever bowed before.

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Yoo,” you say, straightening up with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt the seating arrangement. The head table is for family and partners.”

Her father blinks, clearly surprised by the lack of resistance.

“I apologize for the confusion,” you continue calmly. “I’ll find a seat elsewhere. Please, enjoy your evening.”

His expression shifts from disdain to begrudging approval. He looks at you like a dog that has successfully learned to stay off the furniture.

“At least he understands his place,” he mutters to Karina, then turns away, satisfied.

Winter’s ex chuckles softly, swirling his wine. Winter shoots him a glare, then her eyes flick back at you. Her expression is rather unreadable, but it’s definitely not happy. For once, you don’t care enough to stick around to decode it.

Karina stares at you like you’d just slapped her. “Why did you—”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, stepping back. “Go.”

You swallow any pride you have left and turn to walk away, straightening your spine as much as possible while resisting the urge to sprint to the nearest exist. You can literally feel a hundred eyes on your back like they’re laser sights.

“Jimin, sit down,” her father warns from behind you. “Do not chase him. Do not make a scene.”

You don’t look back. You just focus on the marble pattern. Left foot, right foot. Don’t trip, don’t die in front of rich people—they won’t mourn, they’ll think it’s inconvenient during dinnertime.

Then you hear it—the scrape of a chair, and then the sharp, unmistakable sound of heels against the floor.

“Yoo Jimin!” her father hisses.

You don’t turn around, but the footsteps stop right behind you. You can hear her breathing—quick, shallow breaths that brush against the back of your neck.

“You’re going to get disowned,” you say quietly, still facing forward. “I’ve seen enough K-dramas to know how this ends.”

“Let him be mad,” she replies as her hand slips into yours.

Her palm is warm, fingers tightly threading through yours, like she’s afraid you might disappear if she loosens her grip.

You quickly turn and pull her away behind a pillar, out of sight from all the eyes of VIPs, where the shadows feel safer.

“Karina, what are you—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fierce and breathless. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” Her eyes are huge and drowning in frustration. “And you shouldn’t have apologized to him. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I de-escalated,” you say quietly. “Besides, he’s right. I don’t belong up there. I don’t even know which fork is for the salad.”

“The small one,” she answers without thinking. “And you belong where I am. I asked you to come here. So let’s find another table together.”

For a moment, the noise of the gala fades. It’s just her, looking at you with those big, soft eyes, holding your hand like it’s the only anchor she has in a room full of sharks. Except you don’t actually know how to swim here. Not in this ocean.

“Listen,” you say, squeezing back. “Go back. Sit with him. Don’t ruin your night because of me. We can talk later. I’ll text you snarky commentary on the award speeches.”

She searches your face, like she’s memorizing it one last time. “Promise you won’t disappear at midnight?”

You force a smile. “Promise. My suit might expire and vaporize though.”

She hesitates. She looks at her father’s table, then back at you. Then she nods, squeezes your hand one last time, and lets go.

Then she slips away, back into the light. You stay where you are, watching her leave as the warmth of her touch fades from your skin.

“Depressing, isn’t it? Trying to date fifty leagues upwards.”

You don’t flinch. It’s a law of physics at this point: Ningning somehow always appears at the right time—especially when it hurts most.

She slides next to you, right where Karina’s warmth is fading. She doesn’t care to even look at the dinner table. She’s staring at her phone, where a terrifying grin is illuminated by the blue light.

“Come with me,” she says, tugging your arm. “I have an update that will make you forget all about your newfound trauma, Romeo.”

You follow Ningning out of the ballroom, slipping between servers and clusters of executives who have snuck out to take calls. She leads you down a short hallway and ducks into a mostly empty side lounge—aside from a vase the size of a small child and a painting that looks more like a tax write-off than decor.

“Okay,” you say, leaning against the doorframe to block the view. “What did you do now?”

Ningning’s grin is sinister, like she had just ruined a life or two before coming to find you.

“I flirted with Winter’s ex by the bar during cocktail hour.”

“That was the perimeter?”

She continues. “Turns out he’s extremely vulnerable to sustained eye contact, mild admiration, and a hot girl laughing at jokes that aren’t funny. A real textbook case of narcissism.”

“That’s not news. That’s his factory settings. And it’s probably every other guy here.”

“That’s not all.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a sleek, heavy-looking black pen. “You see this?” she says, swirling it around her fingers like a magician.

You blink. “Is this your Catwoman debut? Stealing a pen?”

“I have a twin.” She taps her phone screen. An app opens—audio levels dancing on a timeline. “Slipped the other one into his jacket pocket while he was distracted by my cleavage.”

You stare at her. “You bugged him.”

“Don’t make it sound so tacky.” She scrolls back on the timeline, humming a little tune. “Anyway, our boy had a very interesting chat immediately after I left. Take a wild guess with who.”

Your stomach tightens. “Giselle.”

“Bingo.” She holds the phone up between you and presses play.

The audio is scratchy, but the voices are unmistakable despite all the crackles.

“…I told you to stop texting me during family events,” he says, clearly irritated. “You’re going to make this harder than it has to be.”

“Oh, I’m making it harder?” she scoffs. “You’re the one who talked me into this circus to begin with. Marry him, baby. We’ll bleed him slow, he won’t even feel it. That was you, by the way.”

You feel your stomach dip.

Ningning watches your reaction with delight—in the way that only someone who thrives on chaos can. “Wait. It gets better. Or worse. Depends on your morals and how much you enjoy villain monologues, I guess.”

The recording rustles—fabric shifting and the dull clink of glasses hitting a table.

“We have to stick to the plan,” the ex says, sliding into that annoying, condescending tone. “You marry the Chairman, smile for the cameras, play the devoted fiancée, then the wife. Then you get access to the accounts. Meanwhile, I’ll keep Minjeong dangling. Between the two of them, we wipe your debts, my bad investments, and still have enough left to disappear somewhere with actual beaches.”

Giselle exhales a laugh—lower now, closer to the mic. Close enough that you can picture the angle of it. She must be right next to his jacket.

“And when you say disappear,” she says, “you mean just us. Right? Not a family package deal.”

“Obviously just us. You think I want to spend the rest of my life babysitting a neurotic ice cube and her control-freak father?”

“And if your little princess finds out you used her and her father?” Giselle asks. “She’s not stupid. Like, at all. She’s actually terrifyingly sharp.”

“But she’s insecure,” he corrects. “That’s even better than stupid. Insecure people are predictable. You tell them they’re special, that you see the real them, and they’ll crawl over broken glass to keep that illusion alive.”

You feel your hand curl into a fist without your permission.

“And you don’t feel… anything?” Giselle presses. “Guilt? Attachment? You’ve been with her for years.”

“Attachment?” He laughs. “To what? A walking bundle of daddy issues who only relaxes when you’re telling her she’s garbage? She’s a habit, not a person.”

Ningning quietly reaches over and pries your fingers open, thumb brushing your knuckles like she’s un-crumpling paper.

“Don’t break my phone,” she says mildly. “I need it to blackmail people.”

The recording continues.

“You’re cruel,” Giselle says, but there’s admiration in it.

“I’m resourceful,” he replies. “You didn’t fall in love with me because I’m nice.”

There’s a pause. Then the wet, sharp sound of a kiss.

“…and you’re not exactly innocent either,” he murmurs against her mouth. “Sleeping with the daughter’s boyfriend and then marrying the dad? Iconic.”

Giselle laughs, low and pleased. “Fine. So I marry him, you keep stringing her along. And when we’re done?”

“We cash out and go,” he says. “New names, new passports, new everything. No board meetings, no quarterly reports, no Minjeong crying because I didn’t text back in thirty minutes.”

“She cries?” she asks, seemingly amused.

“Constantly. You tell her she’s worthless during sex, she cries. You tell her she’s only good as a stress toy, she cries. Then she comes harder than anyone you’ve ever seen and thanks you for it. It’s pathetic.”

Your chest physically hurts from anger.

“You really think you can keep her in line forever?” Giselle says. “She doesn’t exactly look submissive out there.”

“That’s the fun part. No one suspects the golden girl wants to be wrecked. That’s my advantage. She’s terrified someone else will see that side of her, so she keeps coming back to the only person who already has. Me.”

“And the hotel thing?” she asks after a moment. “You’re sure that’s not overkill?”

“Relax.” He chuckles. “I already set up cameras in one of the suites here. She’ll think I’m planning some kind of romantic getaway. Tonight I’ll get something useful—full face, tears, begging. Insurance. If anything goes wrong with this plan, I leak the videos and she’s done. Her dad will throw her out of the boardroom so fast she won’t know what hit her.”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now. You knew he was low, but this is beneath the ground.

“God, you’re awful,” she says.

“Here’s a second key. Meet me up there later tonight. We’ll… celebrate.”

There’s a longer rustle, a muffled sound that’s unmistakably a kiss deepening.

Ningning taps her screen. The lounge drops back into silence, but the air feels toxic now.

“You wanted the truth,” she says lightly, slipping the phone back into her bag. “There it is. Uncut, unhinged, and deeply on brand for this company’s taste in men.”

“This has to be a prank,” you manage, rubbing a hand over your face. “Some sort of sick joke.”

You know it isn’t. You just wish it was.

“Like I said. He’s not just garbage. He’s organized garbage. That’s the worst kind.”

You drag your hand through your hair. “So we tell Winter’s dad. Or security. Or—”

“And say what?” she cuts in. “Hi, Mr. Chairman, sir. We illegally recorded your future son-in-law and your future wife discussing how they’re going to siphon your money and weaponize your daughter’s trauma.”

She scoffs. “He will nuke us before he lets this get public. The man hates scandal more than he loves his own last name on the building.”

You hate how accurate that sounds. The Chairman would absolutely sign your death warrant to save the stock price.

“So what do we do?” you ask, pressing your temples. “Just let it happen?”

“We make sure his little insurance policy never exists,” she says casually. “No sex tape, no leverage, no bargaining chip.”

You blink. “You want to find the camera.”

“Correct.” She checks her reflection in the darkened window. “He said one of the suites. That means somewhere in this hotel.”

You lean back against the wall, brain trying to catch up. “And how are we supposed to find a hidden camera in a random suite during a gala, surrounded by a couple hundred witnesses and a small army of security?”

Ningning’s eyes glitter like this is her favorite part. “And that,” she sings, “is where your tragic emotional attachment to a girl who treats you like garbage comes in handy.”

You just stare.

She pats your chest twice, like she’s testing structural integrity. “You are going to keep Winter busy.”

Your heart stutters. “Busy how?”

“I don’t know. Ask her how she’s doing. That usually pisses her off.”

“So you want me to annoy her.”

“Finally, a job you’re naturally gifted at,” she says with a smirk. “Your goal is to keep her downstairs, away from him. Meanwhile, I’m going to go turn the charm up and stick to the ex like glue until he’s drunk enough or horny enough to flash his keycard. Then I steal it, and we’ll have a room number and a key. Simple.”

Your brows furrow. “What? That’s not simple. That’s—”

“Another Friday for me,” she says, shrugging. “Once we have the key, you and I pay a discreet little visit to the love nest, rip out anything with a lens, and get out before he decides it’s showtime.”

“And if he drags her upstairs before we’re done?” you ask.

“Then we improvise. But regardless, he does not leave this building tonight with a camera full of leverage.” She opens her bag and pulls out a stick of lipgloss. “He wants to turn this place into a cash cow? Dream on. I’m not letting anyone milk this company but me.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing the sheer insanity of the plan.

She snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Hey. Focus. Mission first, feelings later. Do not let Karina’s eyes, hair—or tits distract you from keeping Winter occupied long enough for me to pull this off. Got it? You can go back to yearning after we’ve defused the bomb.”

She straightens her dress, rolling her shoulders like a fighter before round two.

“Alright. Game time,” she murmurs, already moving toward the door. “Go irritate your favorite disaster. I’ll go flirt with hers.”

The ballroom feels even louder when you step back into it, as if the music and conversations have been cranked up to max volume just to mess with your head even further.

When dinner is over, Winter is exactly where you expect her—near the edge of a crowd, close to the exits, yet far from any real escape. She’s standing alone with a nearly-empty glass in hand and a posture screaming “approach at your own risk.”

You take a deep breath and walk over.

She immediately sees you coming and exhales like the night has personally decided to test the last of her patience by sending you.

“Shouldn’t you be in the back with the other interns?” Winter asks, eyes flicking over your tux like she’s surprised you even own one. “Or did they run out of napkins to fold?”

“You must’ve missed the memo,” you say, stopping right in front of her. “I got promoted to Decorative Plant.”

She doesn’t laugh, obviously. “Congratulations on the lateral move. Go photosynthesize somewhere else.”

“Can’t,” you say sorrowfully. “It’s so much better over here next to this ball of sunshine.”

She sighs, a short, sharp exhale through her nose. “What do you want?” she asks, not looking at you. “I don’t have time to babysit you.”

You could—and probably should—go with Ningning’s plan and start poking at sore spots, but the words that come out betray you.

“Are you doing okay?” you ask, quieter than you meant to.

There it is—the smallest hitch in her expression. Her fingers tighten almost unnoticably around the stem of her glass.

She doesn’t look at you when she answers. “Don’t,” she huffs.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start. You’re an intern, not my therapist.”

“I’m serious,” you say, lowering your voice further. “You look miserable. Your dad’s parading you around like a trophy. Your ex is—” You stop yourself before you say something that can’t be unsaid. “Are you okay?”

Winter finally looks at you. Her gaze lingers on your face like she’s searching for an ulterior motive and hating that she’s not finding one.

“This is my life,” she says firmly. “This is normal. I don’t need concern from you.”

“You don’t want it,” you correct. “There’s a difference.”

“Why do you do this?” she snarls. “Why do you always have to push? Can’t you just take an order and walk away?”

“God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you without asking for a stock option in return.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps shut. She stares at you, caught off guard by the sincerity in your voice. For a fleeting moment, she’s neither Kim Minjeong nor Creative Director Winter—just an overwhelmed, exhausted girl ready to fall apart.

“This isn’t the time and place,” she says, quickly gathering herself. “I have to survive tonight. That’s it. That’s the whole task.”

“It’s a gala, not a hostage situation.”

“Is there a difference?” Her eyes flash. “Has it ever occurred to you that nothing in my life is a celebration?”

“Then maybe you should change that—”

Your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket.

You quickly pull it out under the cover of your jacket—just in case it’s Ningning giving you an update on your first official mission as Batman and Catwoman.

Winter, of course, notices right away. She notices everything. Except the knife currently being sharpened for her back.

Yoo Jimin: hey human shield kind of need you right now they’re tag-teaming me about a “strategic marriage” if one more person says “two dynasties” i’m going to stab the dessert table

You glance over. Sure enough, Karina is across the room, surrounded by a semi-circle of men in suits who look like they learned how to flirt from tech entrepreneurs.

But then you remember Ningning’s warning—mission first, yearning later—and shove the phone away before you can do something stupid, like go save her.

“Sorry,” you say, putting it back in your pocket. “I’m supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Where? Holding hands with the Head of Design in front of the board?”

You freeze.“I wasn’t holding hands. She grabbed me.”

“And you let her.” Her eyes narrow. “You looked like a lost puppy she picked up at the shelter to annoy her father. It was embarrassing.”

You tilt your head. “Are you jealous, Ms. Kim?”

The question slips out before you can stop it. It’s reckless. It’s stupid. But it’s exactly what Ningning told you to do: keep her busy.

Winter freezes. For a second, you think she might actually throw her drink in your face.

“Jealous?” she repeats. “Over what? An intern who can’t even tie his own bowtie properly?”

She reaches out, her fingers brushing your throat as she fixes the knot. The brief contact sends a jolt of something straight through your body.

“I don’t get jealous over things I own,” she whispers, staring up at you through her lashes. “I get annoyed when they’re misplaced.”

Your breath hitches. “I wasn’t aware I was still your property.”

“Check your contract,” she says, mindlessly fixing your collar now. “You belong to my department. That means you don’t go running off to play Prince Charming for my cousin just because she smiled at you.”

“She needed a plus-one.”

“She needed a prop,” Winter corrects, eyes snapping back up to lock with yours. “Don’t tell me you think the great prodigy Yoo Jimin didn’t predict exactly how that played out earlier. She didn’t bring you there because she enjoys your conversations. You’re just a tool she used to flip off her dad so that he would be too mad to introduce her to any more of his friends’ sons. And you’re so eager to be used, aren’t you? As long as the person using you is pretty enough.”

“Strange coming from the person who calls me at 2am because she forgot her next-day presentation material.”

Her nostrils flare. “You choose to answer.”

“Yeah. I do. Guess why,” you say, instantly regretting it.

She freezes for a second, but then ignores it completely. “I call you because as much as I hate to admit it, you get things done.”

You scoff. “Just last week you told me that my very existence was an HR violation.”

“It is,” she says, fixing a strand of hair falling over your face with an annoyed look. “But tonight, you’re seemingly determined to be a PR violation, too.”

You catch her wrist before she can pull away. Her warmth is nostalgic, and her pulse dances under your thumb.

“The only PR violation tonight is your dumb boyfriend over there flirting with your father’s fiancée in front of all those cameras and people.”

You turn to the bar, where the ex is standing next to Giselle, bodies angled toward each other like magnets. Ningning is already there, squeezing herself between their conversation, laughing at something he’s said that you’re certain isn’t funny.

Winter stares at them and then back at you—furious, but just so painfully beautiful. For a fleeting moment, everything around you blurs away. It’s just her, looking at you like she wants to either slap you or kiss you.

“You are infuriating,” she says, pulling her arm out your grip. “Worry about your own love life.”

Your phone buzzes again.

Winter’s eyes flick to your pocket. “Popular tonight. Jimin unnie again? Asking you to come save her from a conversation about golf?”

Yoo Jimin: they’re bringing up golf metaphors now this is a cry for help

Ningning’s voice is loud in your head: Mission first, feelings later. Do not let Karina distract you.

You swallow, lock the screen, and then turn back at Winter. “She does hate golf.”

“Go then,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “Go be her hero. Go wag your little tail.”

“No, I think I’ll stay,” you say, leaning against the wall. “The view is better here.”

Winter blinks. “You’re such an idiot,” she mutters, looking away, though the corner of her mouth fights a losing battle against a smile.

“And you’re out of wine,” you say, nodding at her drink. “Let’s get you another glass.”

As you walk away, your phone buzzes again. You don’t even look this time.

You’re just about to signal the bartender—just about to lean in and cement the distraction—when a frantic voice cuts in.

“Director! Director Kim!”

It’s Manager Yoon, Winter’s personal assistant. She’s a tiny woman who always looks like she’s five minutes away from a nervous breakdown, permanently clutching a tablet to her chest like a shield.

Winter stiffens instantly, the playful anger vanishing. “Yes?”

“The Chairman is asking for you,” her assistant says, not even looking at you. “President Jang from IVE Corp has just arrived.”

Winter’s mask slams back into place, sealing away the girl who was just blushing at you. She lets out a short, sharp exhale through her nose. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

Manager Yoon nods fervently and scurries off to clear the path.

Winter hesitates. She looks at the bar, then back at you. For a split second, her shoulders slump—like a kid being dragged away from the playground.

Yoo Jimin: you owe me a dance later

--

“Mission status?”

Ningning has a new drink in hand. Her lipstick is slightly smudged in a way that feels absolutely intentional, and her eyes are bright with the adrenaline of a cat that just knocked a vase off a shelf on purpose.

“She’s staying downstairs,” you say, keeping your voice low. “For now.”

“Excellent,” she purrs. “Because phase two is officially a go.”

Ningning lifts her bag just enough for you to see the thin rectangle tucked between her manicured fingers.

A hotel keycard.

“You actually got it,” you breathe, staring at it like it’s a loaded gun. “You’re insane, Ning.”

“Please. He’s tragically predictable. Compliment his tie, laugh at his joke, touch his arm—he’ll show you his portfolio, his room number, even his childhood trauma if you give him ten minutes.” She tilts her head. “Giselle helped, actually.”

You blink. “How?”

“Ironically, she doesn’t like sharing,” she says, amused. “She saw me getting too close and dragged him into the hallway to mark her territory. He got distracted trying to calm her down, tossed his jacket on a chair… and, well, you can guess the rest.”

Your stomach twists. “And you said they’re meeting later?”

“In that same room.” She taps the sharp corner of the card against your chest. “Which means we have a very narrow window to sanitize the crime scene. So suit up and let’s go.”

“Right now?” you ask, pulse jumping.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, right now. We go up, we sweep the room, we steal anything with a lens or a blinking light, and we get out before anyone realizes their little porn set has been shut down.”

“If someone notices we’re gone—” you start.

“They won’t,” Ningning says confidently. “We’re interns. We are, tragically, forgettable. That’s exactly why only we can do this.” She pauses. “Unless you’d rather stay here and keep making moony eyes at Tits and Waist while they both ignore you for rich men.”

“Fine.” You exhale, turning your back on the ballroom. “Lead the way, partner.”

“I love it when you let me take charge,” she coos, looping her arm through yours and steering you toward the side corridor.

The elevator doors slide open on a carpeted hallway that smells like a very expensive air freshener. Everything is quiet and muted—basically the opposite of the chaos downstairs.

Ningning leads the way, counting room numbers under her breath until she stops in front of one that matches what’s on the keycard sleeve.

“Here,” she whispers. “This one.”

You both stand there for a second, listening. No voices. No movement.

“Okay, last chance to bail,” she says, voice barely audible. “We can go back, pretend we never heard anything, and just let this place implode on schedule.”

“You’re trying to talk me out of this now?” you ask, shivering despite your suit jacket.

“Not really. I just like giving people the illusion of choice.” She turns to the door. “Ready?”

You sigh one last time. “Not even a little.”

“Too late, Batboy,” she replies, and swipes the card.

The lock clicks. She pushes the door open, and the two of you step into the suite.

The room is immaculate. Too immaculate, even by five-star hotel standards. Bed made, pillows fluffed, a bottle of champagne on ice waiting patiently on the table.

“God, how tacky,” Ningning mutters, walking over to the ice bucket. She picks up the bottle, inspects the label, and sneers. “Who buys Moët for a blackmail scheme? At least go for Dom if you’re going to ruin someone’s life.”

You walk to the giant windows of the corner suite. The view of the city is breathtaking, but the reflection in the glass just shows two interns in over their heads, moonlighting as vigilantes.

“Alright, time to find those cameras,” you say, taking a deep breath.

You start with the obvious places, immediately moving to the dresser mirror, squinting at the frame.

Ningning, however, isn’t searching for lenses. Instead, she opens the wardrobe door, then checks under the bed, then opens the door to a large walk-in closet near the bathroom like she’s checking out the place for herself.

“Ning! Come on. They’ll be here any minute.”

“Relax, we have time,” she says, dropping her bag on the desk. She wanders toward the bathroom, then pivots to a large set of double doors. “He’s probably stuck in the elevator making small talk with a crypto bro.”

She opens the doors. “Oh hello, what’s this?”

“What are you doing?” you hiss, running your finger along the vanity lights.

“Looking for a hidey-hole just in case,” she replies, stepping inside the walk-in closet. “This one’s huge. Good acoustics, too.”

“Ning, focus—”

Beep. Click.

The sound of a keycard on the door cuts you off like a gunshot.

You freeze, your hand still hovering over the desk lamp.

Ningning stops mid-twirl. “Shit!” she hisses.

She lunges out, grabs your arm, and yanks both you and her handbag into the darkness of the walk-in closet just as the suite door swings open.

You stumble in, tripping over a rack of hotel robes, and she pulls the door shut. The space is surprisingly large—deep enough for luggage racks and a full-length mirror—but right now, pressed against Ningning in the dark, it feels suffocatingly intimate. You can smell her floral perfume clearly as her neck presses against your face. For a split second, you realize how much you miss her scent.

Through the slats of the door, you see two figures enter.

It’s the ex and Giselle.

“I told you, I lost mine,” he says, voice smooth and irritated. He walks straight to the minibar and pours himself a glass of whiskey. “I must have dropped it when I was talking to the investors.”

“You’re so careless,” Giselle snaps, sounding different than she did in the lobby—less confident, more anxious. “If the Chairman sees me up here—”

“He won’t,” he says, taking a sip. “He’s busy showing off his perfect daughter to the IVE execs. That meeting will take twenty minutes, minimum.”

“I don’t know if I like this,” she says, hugging her arms. “Minjeong isn’t stupid. If she sees a camera—”

“She won’t see anything,” he laughs, setting the glass down. “I put them in the blind spots.”

“What blind spots?”

He walks over to the desk. “One here in the floral arrangement,” he says, tapping the large vase. “Catches the entry, the bed, and the conversation. Audio is crisp, too.”

Giselle watches him with a look of distaste. “And the other one?”

He turns, pointing up toward the ceiling, directly above the pristine white bed.

“Smoke detector,” he says with a grin. “Top-down view. Catches everything on the mattress.”

She follows his gaze to the bed, at the crisp white sheets, the fluffed pillows, the perfect stage he’s set so carefully.

“You sure went through a lot of trouble,” she scoffs.

He shrugs. “Presentation is everything. If the set looks cheap, the star won’t perform.”

“The star,” she repeats bitterly. She crosses her arms, still staring at the pillows. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re not just doing this for leverage. You actually want to fuck her.”

He pauses, then sets the glass down and looks at her.

“Uh oh,” he purrs, taking a step toward her. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I am not—”

“You are,” he interrupts, closing the distance. “You’re mad that I’m going to fuck Minjeong’s brains out in this room, on that bed, while you go back downstairs and play trophy wife for her middle-aged father.”

Giselle flinches, but she doesn’t back away.

“Come here.” He grabs her waist and pulls her flush against him.

She lets out a small gasp, gripping his jacket. “What are you—”

He kisses her neck, and she melts into it instantly.

“You’re the biggest asshole I know.” She starts to pull him backward, toward the pristine white mattress.

“Ah-ah,” he says, stopping her cold.

He holds her in place, his grip tightening on her waist. “Not the bed,” he says, his voice dropping. “I need those sheets fresh for Minjeong later.”

Giselle freezes. For a second, you think she might slap him.

“I hate that bitch so much,” she breathes, her eyes oozing with resentment.

“Don’t worry,” he says, snickering. “It’ll be all worth it soon, babe.”

He spins her around, slamming her against the wall next to the closet door—inches from where you and Ningning are hiding. The impact rattles the hinges, sending a vibration straight through your shoulder where you’re pressed against the wood.

“Lift it,” he orders. “Show me that slutty little pussy of yours.”

Giselle stands frozen for a second with her back to him, staring at the wall next to the closet door. You can see her reflection in the full-length mirror—her eyes are wide and filled with an undeniable want.

She reaches down. Her hands shake visibly as she bunches the fabric of her dress up around her waist.

“God, you’re easy,” he mutters, shaking his head with a smirk that you can hear in his voice. “You were wet the second you walked in the door, weren’t you?”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric of her panties, yanking it aside without bothering to take them off. The sound of the elastic snapping against her skin feels extra loud in the quiet room.

Giselle lets out a sharp yelp as he drops to his knees behind her. His hands slide up her smooth thighs, gripping her hips to hold her in place, digging into the soft, jiggling flesh.

“Please,” she whimpers, pressing her forehead against the wall. “Do it. I’ve missed you so much—”

He laughs, a muffled sound against her thigh. “You know I don’t even do this for Minjeong. She doesn’t like it. Probably thinks she’s too pristine to have her pussy licked.”

Ningning’s head tilts ever so slightly, and amidst the storm surging on the other side of that door, you find a tiny sliver of peace in knowing how completely wrong that statement is.

Giselle shudders, her fingers digging into the wallpaper. “Stop talking about her.”

He chuckles and runs his tongue up the back of her thigh slowly, teasing the very edge of her slit but refusing to give her what she wants yet.

“Tell me, Aeri,” he taunts. “Does the great Chairman Kim ever get on his knees for you?”

“Shut up,” she gasps, her hips twitching involuntarily, trying to chase his mouth.

He pulls back, denying her again. “Does he even look at you when he fucks you? Or does he just close his eyes and think about his dead wife while he pumps into you for two minutes?”

“Stop it!” she cries, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she presses back against him even more.

“He doesn’t eat you out, does he? He probably thinks it’s beneath him. A man of his status, slobbering over a trophy wife?”

He finally buries his face between her legs, slurping her with a hunger that sounds almost violent. It’s not even affectionate; it’s a demonstration of ownership.

Giselle’s knees buckle. She has to brace her hands wider against the wall to even stay upright while her head is involuntarily falling back.

“Oh god,” she moans, biting her own lip to keep the volume down. “God—it’s been so long—”

“I know,” he murmurs against her, not stopping. “You’re starving. You’re dripping down my chin because your future husband is useless.”

He works her relentlessly, finding the rhythm that breaks her composure. Low, broken moans escape her throat while her hips grind back against his face.

Inside the closet, Ningning is frozen. She’s not looking away—her eyes are fixed on the sliver of lights in front of you as her hand finds yours in the dark, squeezing hard. Her body is so close to yours now that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin as she continues watching.

Outside, the ex pulls back suddenly, right before Giselle reaches her climax, causing her to let out a frustrated whimper as she slumps against the wall.

“Look at you,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up. “You act like a lady downstairs, but up here, you’re just a little slut.”

“Come on,” she begs. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

“So impatient. Are you sure you can even play the long game?”

He undoes his belt and immediately grips her hips, thumbs digging into her flesh.

“Say please,” he teases.

“Ple—”

He suddenly thrusts into her from behind, hard and without warning.

She cries out—a sharp, high sound that is immediately muffled as her face hits the wall.

“How does it feel, Aeri?” he asks, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back. “An engaged woman getting fucked by someone who isn’t her fiancée?”

“So good,” she cries, eyes rolling back. “Oh god, it feels so good.”

“Does he do this?” he sneers, slapping her ass. “Does the Chairman fuck you like this?”

“No!” she wails, shaking her head frantically. “No, he could never!”

“He’s too old, isn’t he?” He laughs. “Does he even get it up?”

“He’s useless!” she groans. “I hate it. I hate him. Please… please don’t stop.”

“You starved little bitch,” he growls, driving deeper. “You’re so desperate for a working cock you’re letting your future stepdaughter’s boyfriend use you like a toy.”

“I don’t care,” she gasps, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth. “Just fuck me. Fill me up. I’m so empty all the time without your cock.”

“You’re such a cock-thirsty slut, Aeri. Lucky for you… I like them extra slutty.”

He continues to fuck her hard against the wall with a brutal pace, every thrust shaking the door frame you’re leaning against.

She takes it obediently, her head falling back. “Is this… is this how you fuck her?” she gasps.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” He drives deeper, making her toes curl on the carpet. “How I fuck my girlfriend?”

“Tell me,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Do you fuck her like this?”

“No,” he says, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I don’t. Not like this. Because Minjeong isn’t a desperate whore like you.”

She lets out a wounded sound, half-sob, half-moan, as his words sink in deeper than his thrusts.

“Turn around,” he commands abruptly, pulling out.

Giselle stumbles as she turns, her face completely flushed, eyes wet with a toxic mix of humiliation and lust.

He grabs her right leg, pulling it high over his hip until she’s balanced on one foot.

Then he thrusts back into her from the front, burying himself deep. She gasps, her head knocking back against the wall, nails digging into his shoulders to stay upright.

“Look at me,” he growls, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye while he pumps into her. “Admit it. You’re jealous of Minjeong.”

“I’m not—” she starts, but a hard thrust cuts her off.

“You are.” He slaps her cheek lightly. “You’re jealous that she’s younger, prettier, and smarter. You’re jealous that she’s the real heiress and you’re just the replacement wife. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her hips snapping forward to meet him, unable to fight it anymore. “Yes, I am.”

“Say it properly,” he demands, increasing the pace until she’s gasping for air. “Tell me how much you hate it.”

“I’m jealous of her, okay?” she wails, the confession tearing out of her. “I feel so inferior next to her! She has everything. Even back then, when we were classmates, she always got better grades and had more friends. And now… she even has you.”

“That’s right,” he says, grinning as he watches her break. “She has me. And do you want to know the difference, Aeri? Do you want to know why she’ll always win?”

“Tell me,” she whispers, eyes rolling back.

He leans in, lips brushing her ear. “Because she’s so nice and tight,” he growls. “Her pussy’s basically made for my cock. And she’s got that tiny body that feels like fucking heaven in my hands. Mm, that little snatched waist… those slender legs that she wraps around me when she begs me not to pull out. It drives me crazy. It makes me fuck her so hard that she passes out sometimes.”

Giselle sobs openly now, tears streaming down her face.

“And tonight?” he continues, relentless. “Tonight I’m going to make her beg. I’m going to tie her to that headboard with her own panties. I’m going to edge her until she’s crying, until she’s completely broken, and then I’m going to record every second of her pleading for my cock.”

He pulls back to look at her face—at the absolute devastation he’s caused.

“You’re just my cum dumpster, Aeri. She’s the real prize. Do you understand now?”

“I hate her!” Giselle cries, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping her standing. “I hate her so much!”

“Good,” he snickers. “You should. You’ll never be her.”

He gives her a few more punishing, deep thrusts, watching the light go out of her eyes as she surrenders to the jealousy ripping her apart. Then, abruptly, he pulls out.

“Now,” he says, stepping back and looking down at her. “Show me you know your place. On your knees.”

Giselle slides slowly down the wall until her knees hit the floor. She looks up at him—not with love, but with a pathetic devotion.

“Finish me off,” he orders, tangling one hand into her hair and tilting her head back. “I want to be empty so I can last all night with her.”

She doesn’t even react. She’s past the point of pride.

“All night?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What are you going to do all night?”

“I’m going to make sure she remembers who owns her,” he says, staring at the ceiling as if visualizing it. “And you’re going to help me get ready for it.”

He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, dragging it down. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, and he pushes himself into her, forcing her to take him deep.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, watching himself in the mirror. “Take it. All of it.”

The only sounds in the room are the wet, rhythmic noise of her obedience and his heavy breathing. She works harder, sucking with a frantic intensity, as if trying to prove she’s worth something.

“Swallow it,” he commands suddenly, his hips snapping forward, voice straining. “Don’t you dare spill a drop. I want to be clean for Minjeong.”

She makes a choked sound and bobs her head faster, taking him all the way down as he releases into her mouth with a loud groan. He holds her head in place, fingers tightening in her hair.

She stays on her knees for a moment, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, looking up at him like a dog waiting for a treat.

“Good girl,” he says, patting her cheek lightly. “Now go fix your face. You have a party to get back to.”

--

The room falls into a heavy, deafening silence as the door finally closes behind them.

“Jesus,” Ningning breathes, stepping out into the suite, fanning herself with her hand. She immediately walks to the mirror, checking her hair. “I really need another drink after that.”

“A drink and maybe a priest.” You stumble out after her, legs stiff. “But first, we need to find those cameras and get the hell out of here.”

“Right—cameras,” she says, snapping into focus.

You grab a chair from the desk and drag it to the center of the room. “I’ll get the one up here.”

You climb up, unscrewing the smoke detector cover. Sure enough, there’s a small black square taped inside, just as he brag.

“Found it,” you say, yanking it out.

Ningning is already at the desk, digging through the flowers. “Found the other one. What’s with villains and exposing all their secrets when they think no one’s listening?”

She pulls the tiny device out and holds it up to the light.

“Check it out,” she says, tossing it to you. “It’s just a camera. No transmitter.”

You catch it and look closely. She’s right. It’s a local storage unit—recording to a micro-SD card.

“He’s not streaming or saving it anywhere,” you realize. “Just recording it physically. Either doesn’t trust the hotel Wi-Fi or too cheap to pay for cloud subscription.”

“Which means that if we take these, he has nothing. No backup either. Just an empty slot where his 720p blackmail porn used to be.”

She pops the SD card out of her unit and slips it into her bra. You stare at her.

“What?” she hums. “We need it. For leverage.”

You roll your eyes and pocket the other camera. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

The only thing stopping your celebration is the sound of footsteps and chatter in the hallway. Multiple.

You freeze.

“What the actual hell?” Ningning hisses. “Already?”

Beep. Click.

The lock engages.

“It’s only been like ten minutes—”

You grab Ningning’s hand and dive back toward the walk-in closet just as the handle turns, tripping over your own shoes and practically throwing her into the bathrobes just as the handle turns.

“Come on, Minjeongie,” the ex says sweetly—a completely different tone from how he spoke to Giselle. “Don’t be like that. Julian flew all the way from London just to see us.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Winter says. “You didn’t say anything about—”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he cuts in. “We talked about this, Minjeong. Remember? You said you wanted to try it again.”

“I meant with another stranger,” she says, glancing nervously at the guy named Julian. “And somewhere in Europe, not down the street from my house with my entire family and company downstairs.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” He steps closer, stroking her arm. “Julian is a friend, yes. But he knows the rules. He knows who you belong to. It’s less messy that way. Besides, don’t pretend you don’t remember Berlin. You weren’t exactly shy with him then. You made out with him months before we even met.”

“It was at a party,” she argues weakly. “And we were drunk.”

“We can be drunk now,” he counters, eyeing the bottle of wine on the table. “Or we can just be honest. You liked it last time, Minjeong. You liked having two pairs of hands on you. You liked not knowing who was touching you.”

Julian smiles, leaning against the doorframe, loosening his tie. “Listen, I’m just here to help, Minjeong. It’s been a while since we all hung out like this. And honestly, after the way your cousin shot me down downstairs, I could use a little comforting.”

Winter blinks. “Jimin unnie rejected you?”

“Brutally,” Julian sighs, walking over to pour himself a drink. “Looked at me like I was a smudge on her glasses. Gave me some speech about boundaries and professionalism, but you could see it in her eyes. She thinks she’s above everyone.”

He takes a sip, grimacing.

“She acts like this perfect, untouchable saint,” he sneers, turning back to Winter. “But you know what I think? I think she’s broken. I think underneath that act, she’s hollow. Empty. Not like you, Minjeong.”

Winter’s expression shifts. She’s listening now.

“You’re real,” he says, stepping closer. “Yoo Jimin is just a mannequin. A perfect little doll for the shareholders to look at. But you? You’re a woman.”

Winter looks between them. The frustration is there, but so is something else—a twisted curiosity, a lingering exhaustion, and an undeniable spark of competitiveness.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “If anyone finds out…”

“No one will know,” her ex says, guiding her hands to his waist. “Just us. Just for an hour. Minjeong—look at me. You’re vibrating. You’re going to snap down there if you don’t let go.”

He leans in, whispering directly into her ear. “Aren’t you tired? Tired of your father comparing you and Jimin to Jang Wonyoung and An Yujin? Tired of being asked why Aespa Group continues to fall short to IVE Corp?”

Winter’s eyes squeeze shut. Her resistance is visibly crumbling before them.

“You don’t have to be the perfect daughter in here,” he continues. “You don’t have to be the future CEO of anyone’s legacy. You can just be… a body. A toy. No decisions. No responsibilities.”

She shudders. You see the fight drain out of her shoulders through the slats of the closet door. She lets out a long, shaky breath that sounds like a surrender.

“Admit it,” he murmurs triumphantly. “You need this. You need to stop thinking tonight.”

“I just…” She swallows hard, voice trembling. “I just want it to be quiet. I want my brain to stop.”

“We can make you forget about everything,” Julian says softly, moving closer to circle her like a shark. “We can make everything else disappear.”

“That’s right.” Her ex kisses her forehead. “Just be a good girl and let us take care of you.”

He slides his hands down her body, cupping her ass through the fabric, squeezing it firmly.

Winter gasps loudly, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs against her ear. “You like how good it feels when you stop fighting.”

He spins her around before she can answer, pushing her right into his friend. He catches her easily, one hand on her waist, the other coming up to cup her jaw.

“It’s been years,” Julian says, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Do you remember how I taste, Minjeong?”

Winter looks up at him, her eyes hazy. The fight is gone. “Yes,” she whispers. “I remember.”

“Prove it,” he growls.

He crashes his mouth onto hers. It’s not a gentle kiss. Winter makes a small, desperate sound in her throat and grabs his shirt, pulling him closer, kissing him back with a hunger that surprises even him.

Her ex laughs, a low, satisfied sound, and kisses down the side of her neck while she’s occupied. “There she is,” he purrs. “The real Kim Minjeong.”

When Julian finally pulls back, Winter is breathless. She looks defeated already, and they haven’t even taken her clothes off.

“Please,” she begs, looking between them. “Do it. Use me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks condescendingly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she breathes. “Please.”

Her ex smiles and reaches for the zipper of her dress. She doesn’t even flinch now. She leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering completely.

In the closet, you lunge forward. You can’t help it. The sight of them touching her—after what he just did to Giselle, after everything. Ningning immediately slams her body weight against you, pinning you to the back wall and clamps her hand over your mouth, her nails digging into your cheek.

“Don’t,” she mouths, shaking her head. “You can’t.”

Outside, the white dress is already on the floor. Winter stands in just her lingerie, completely exposed.

“Beautiful,” Julian murmurs, eyeing her like a product at the market. “Just so fucking beautiful.”

“She loves being looked at,” the ex says, guiding her toward the bed. “Don’t you, Minjeong? You’ve missed this.”

“Can’t you at least turn off the lights?” Winter swallows, looking away. “It’s too bright in here. ”

“I have an even better idea,” her ex says smoothly.

He reaches into his pocket—or maybe he grabs a tie from the dresser, you can’t tell from the angle—and produces a strip of black silk.

“Let’s turn everything off Minjeongie, including your eyes.”

He ties the blindfold around her head, securing it tight. The moment her vision is gone, her posture changes. The tension in her shoulders drops. She lets out a long exhale, finally surrendering to the dark.

“Better?” he asks, running his hands down her bare arms.

“Yes,” she says, tilting her head back against his chest. “Much better.”

“Good,” he grins at Julian over her shoulder. “Now… let’s see if we can make you forget your name.”

“Kneel,” the other commands softly.

Winter sinks to the plush carpet, her knees hitting the floor with a soft thud.

She tilts her head up, seeking them out, her lips parted. “Where are you?” she whispers.

You hear the sound of zippers. Two of them.

“Right here,” her ex says, stepping in front of her.

He doesn’t wait. He presses the head of his cock against her lips, and she opens instantly, taking him in with a desperate obedience.

“God,” he groans, his hand tangling in her hair. “You’re so eager tonight.”

She takes him all the way in, wrapping her lips around his flesh as if she’d been waiting all night.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Such a good girl.”

She pulls off with a wet pop, gasping for air. “Both,” she demands. “I want both.”

“What a greedy girl,” Julian laughs. “Turn your head.”

She obeys blindly, turning her face to the side. He steps in, guiding himself into her mouth while her ex moves to her other side.

“Look at her,” the ex says, running his hand down her throat, tracing the movement as she swallows Julian down. “Look how perfectly she takes it. You’d never know she was the Chairman’s daughter right now, would you?”

“She’s a natural,” Julian agrees, thrusting into her mouth. “You like this, Minjeong? You like being used like this?”

“Mmph,” she moans, her hand coming up to stroke her ex’s length since her mouth is occupied.

“Use your words later,” he says, guiding his cock to her lips as Julian pulls back for a breath. “Right now, just keep your mouth open.”

She switches back and forth between them—licking, sucking, bobbing her head. The sounds of their pleasure and her wet, needy noises fill the room, suffocating you and Ningning in their intensity.

“That’s it,” Julian teases, slapping her cheek lightly. “Make me forget about your cousin.”

At the mere mention of Karina, Winter seems to work harder. Her throat tightens, her pace increasing as if she’s trying to suck the very thought of her perfect cousin out of him.

“On the bed now,” her ex commands. “On your knees.”

Winter lets go of their throbbing shafts and obediently climbs onto the mattress like a starved puppy. The white sheets nearly blend in with her skin as she positions herself exactly as told—head bowed, back arched, legs spread, ass up.

The ex grabs Winter’s hair, pulling her head back. “Tell him what you are.”

“I-I’m a toy,” she says, voice trembling.

“And?”

“And I want you to use me,” she chokes out. “Please. Both of you. Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours. All yours.”

The sounds that follow are gut wrenching. The rustle of clothes, the heavy breathing of the two men, and Winter’s soft, broken gasps as they use her, passing her between them like she’s something they bought together.

In the closet, you’re vibrating with anger and violence. You are going to kill them. You are going to tear the door off its hinges and—

Ningning kisses you.

It’s not romantic. At all. It’s a distraction, and fortunately, it’s a really good one.

She crushes her mouth against yours, biting your lip hard, grabbing your hand and forcing it between her legs before grinding against you with a desperation that mirrors the chaos outside.

“Focus on me,” she whispers against your mouth, eyes wild. “Hate-fuck me if you have to. But do not open that door or we’re both screwed.”

You try to obey, but the sounds from the bedroom aren’t just audible—they’re overwhelming.

“That’s it,” Julian’s voice drifts in, low and encouraging. “Take it all, Minjeong. Show me how good you can be.”

“She’s such a good whore,” the ex laughs. “Aren’t you, babe? This is what you were made for. Not spreadsheets. Not meetings. Just this.”

You press your eye to the gap in the closet door. You shouldn’t, but your body moves on its own.

Winter is on all fours on the bed, completely stripped of her lingerie, with Julian’s cock buried in her mouth while the ex kneels behind her, running his hands over her body as she’s leaning into them, desperate for more.

“Look at her,” the ex says, squeezing her ass firmly. “The Chairman’s precious daughter. On her knees where she belongs. Completely dripping wet while two men have their way with her.”

“Deeper,” Julian commands gently but firmly, hand in her hair. “I know you can take more. You’re doing so well.”

Ningning yanks your face back to hers, her nails biting into your jaw.

“Eyes on me,” she hisses. “Don’t watch or else—”

She doesn’t even finish the threat. She shoves her panties down and hikes her dress up, backing you against the hanging suits.

“Fuck me,” she orders. “Right now.”

You fumble with your zipper, hands shaking not from fear, but from fury. Outside, the bedsprings start their rhythmic creak.

“God, she’s so fucking tight. There’s really nobody like you, Minjeong.”

“You miss taking two cocks at once, don’t you? You wanted this.”

“Yes,” Winter moans, the word muffled. “Please—”

“Please what? Tell us what you want.”

“Please keep using my pussy,” she sobs. “I need it. I need you to use me.”

You slam into Ningning—hard. She almost cries out, her back hitting the wall of suits with a light thud, but she clamps a hand over her own mouth just in time.

“Just like that,” Ningning breathes against her palm, her eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t think about her. Focus on me.”

You grab her hips, digging your fingers in, and thrust into her with a force that shakes the rack of clothes.

But you still look back at the slats. You don’t even know why. You’re not hers, and she’s certainly not yours—you’re just the intern she tolerates at best. But watching her surrender like this, dismantling herself piece by piece just to escape her own head, breaks something inside you. It’s a frustrating, irrational pull—a sudden, desperate need to step in and shield her from the very thing she’s begging for.

The ex has Winter bent over now, face pressed into the mattress. He’s pounding into her from behind while his friend feeds her his cock from the front, both of them using her like she’s nothing but holes.

“You love being spit-roasted, huh?” the ex asks, leaning down to bite her shoulder. “Tell him, Minjeong. Tell him how much you love having both ends filled.”

“I love it,” Winter chokes out around Julian’s length. “I love being your fucktoy.”

“That’s right, babe. No thinking. Just feeling. Just a pretty little toy for us to play with until we’re satisfied. That’s all you’re good for.”

“Please,” she wails. “Please, I’m close—I can’t—I’m gonna come—”

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” Julian commands, thrusting deeper into her mouth. “Not until we say so.”

“Aah—no—I’m sorry—I’m coming—”

There’s laughter. “I wonder what would daddy think if he saw his little princess like this? Getting used like a whore in a hotel room while the board drinks champagne downstairs?”

Winter screams around Julian’s cock, her body convulsing violently, thighs trembling uncontrollably against the ex’s hips as she screams and sobs through the orgasm.

Rage boils over you. You grab Ningning’s hair, pulling her head back just like the ex is doing to Winter.

“Is this what you want?” you growl into her ear. “To be used like her?”

“Yes,” Ningning whimpers, biting her lip. “Ruin me. Pretend you’re hate-fucking her. I know you’re so mad right now.”

She kisses you, roughly and desperately, her tongue shoving into your mouth. Her walls clench hard around your cock, every part of her body demanding your attention.

You bury your face in her neck and thrust harder, faster, trying to drown out the nightmare happening ten feet away.

“Switch,” Julian commands outside. “I want her pussy now.”

There’s a shuffle, the creak of the mattress shifting, and Winter gasps as she moves. You look through the slats.

She’s straddling Julian now, bouncing up and down on him in a frantic rhythm, her head thrown back, breasts bouncing freely. But she’s not just riding him. She’s leaning forward, wrapping her lips around the ex’s cock as he sits on the edge of the bed, her hand stroking him in time with her hips.

“God, she’s completely soaking wet,” he laughs, sounding delighted. “You really are desperate cumslut, aren’t you, Minjeong?”

“Yes,” she wails. “I am. I’m a worthless little fucktoy. Please don’t stop. I want to come again and again and again. Please.”

“Good girl,” the ex demands. “Keep begging. Beg for my cock while he ruins your pussy.”

You look again. Winter’s face is a ruin of smeared makeup, tears, and lust as she’s licking his cock like it’s keeping her alive.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. Finally letting go. Finally honest about what you are.”

“Yes, I’m a whore,” Winter gasps between licks. “I’m really just a whore. I can’t believe it.”

She’s sprawled across the sheets, legs pried apart as Julian drives into her, the mattress shaking with every thrust. But she’s not even looking at him.

Her head is dipped back, trapped in her ex’s grip as he holds her jaw steady, stroking himself while she frantically licks him from below.

“Whose whore?” he asks, rubbing his balls against her tongue.

“Yours. Both of yours.”

“Where do you want us to finish?” Julian demands.

“On my face,” Winter cries. “Cover me. Please cover me with cum.”

Ningning drops to her knees in the cramped space. Without any warning, she just takes you into her mouth. You can barely see her. Instead, all you see is Winter on the other side of those doors, begging them for their cum.

“Our little cum dumpster. Take it all. Every last drop.”

Winter screams—a shattered, euphoric sound—as he slams into her repeatedly.

“Oh my god—please—don’t stop—” she sobs, her hands scrabbling uselessly against the sheets. “I’m coming! I can’t stop com—”

She cuts herself off with a shattered scream, her body arching off the mattress as the pleasure rips through her again. She’s not even breathing between the cries anymore, just sobbing uncontrollably as she rides out the peak, completely undone.

It breaks you. The sound of her pleasure, directed at them, shatters your control. You look down at Ningning—at her dark hair, her desperate eyes, the way she’s slurping you in the dark while Winter gets destroyed in the light.

You grab her hair, thrusting into her mouth as she takes it deep, gagging slightly but never stopping, her throat tightening around you.

“Fuck—I’m coming, Minjeongie,” the ex moans outside.

He erupts on Winter’s face—thick waves landing on her cheek and her chin. Julian joins in, painting her chest and neck in white.

At the exact same moment, you spill down Ningning’s throat. She swallows it all silently, her eyes locked on yours as you pulse into her throat.

Winter takes it all, her tiny body trembling, her chest heaving, and a look of satisfaction and relief fills her face.

Ningning slowly pulls off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stays on her knees, panting, looking just as pleased as Winter on the bed.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of soft, ragged breathing in the closet, and the hot, heavy panting from the bedroom.

“Good girl,” the ex says softly outside. “This is what you deserve, Minjeongie. Nothing more and nothing less.”

And as you look through the cracks, at the way Winter lies breathless on the bed in a hopeless daze, covered in their mess, you finally realize something.

Maybe it’s not her who needs to be saved from him.

It’s you who needs to be saved from her.

--

The ballroom is now a blur of noise and light that hurts your ears and stings your eyes. You’re standing near the entrance, leaning against a marble pillar because your legs are still too traumatized to function.

It took nearly thirty minutes. Thirty minutes trapped in a closet, crouching in the dark while Ningning forces your head between her legs, silently begging you to pleasure her while waiting for the three of them to clean up their crime scene and leave the suite.

“God,” Ningning sighs, adjusting her dress as she scans the crowd. She looks irritatingly fresh, her lipstick reapplied, hair perfect—as if she feels more rejuvenated now instead of hollow inside like you. “Suddenly it feels like heaven out here.”

“I want to go home,” you mutter, staring at the floor. “I want to bleach my brain.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You survived. And we got the goods.” She pats her chest, where the SD cards are safely tucked away. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Live a little. The night is young and so are we.”

“The night is a nightmare and I’m leaving.”

“Not yet you’re not,” she says, nodding toward the far corner of the room. “Look.”

You follow her gaze.

Karina is there. She’s swaying slightly, clutching a wine glass with both hands. And she’s not alone. A man in a sharp tuxedo is standing close—leaning in with a rather earnest, concerned expression. He’s handsome in a wholesome, non-threatening way that instantly makes you want to jump down a flight of stairs.

“Well,” Ningning hums, patting your arm. “I’ll leave you to that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to secure a midnight kiss or two. I’m thinking those VPs from IVE with the limited edition Rolexes.” She winks. “And then… Phase Three.”

You sigh. “There’s a Phase Three?”

“Of course. But don’t worry, this part’s all me. I’m gonna go pay Winter’s ex another visit and introduce him to Little Miss Yuna,” she says, her grin turning wicked. “Watching two narcissists collide sounds like great entertainment.”

You sigh. “And then what?”

“Wait and see, Batboy.” She lifts her chin in Karina’s direction. “You should go save your princess before Prince Charming over there snatches her for the night. You’ve earned the right to continue yearning.”

She vanishes into the crowd, leaving you alone with the noise, the stolen cameras, and the sudden, overwhelming need to get to Karina.

You make your way over, weaving through the crowd of drunk executives and couples awkwardly moving to the slow music. Your eyes lock onto the corner near the terrace doors where Karina is standing.

You recognize him vaguely from the seating chart you weren’t allowed to be on. Lee Heeseung from Enhypen Group. Old money, a prestige family line, and probably has a wing of some hospital named after his grandfather.

You slow your pace, hesitation crawling up your spine.

Karina hasn’t texted you since you left her to deal with Winter. And now, seeing her with him—someone who belongs in this room, someone who was probably invited to sit at the Chairman’s table while you were sneaking around in a closet—it hits you.

You’re just an intern. You’re the guy who carries things and replies to emails. Heeseung is the “good match” her father was probably lecturing her about all night.

You stop ten feet away. They look comfortable. He’s smiling gently, saying something that makes her nod. Meanwhile, you look like you’ve been dragged through a war zone. Your bow tie is barely clinging on, and you realize that Winter was right—you really don’t know how to fix it.

You decide to turn away.

Because you should. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere near Karina. You don’t deserve her. You should just go home. You should just disappear before you embarrass her and yourself further.

You’re two steps from the exit when a hand grabs your arm.

It’s not a gentle touch. It’s a grip—tight, desperate, fingers digging into your bicep through the suit jacket.

You turn. Karina is there, alone. She’s looking up at you, her eyes glassy and huge, searching your face with a mix of both relief and sorrow.

“Are you leaving me again?” she says, her voice slurring from alcohol and hurt.

“I wasn’t leaving,” you lie. “I was just giving you space.”

“Liar,” she murmurs, her grip on your arm tightening rather than loosening. “You were running away. I saw you turn.”

She sways, and you instinctively reach out to steady her, your hands settling on her waist. She feels warm, like the only real thing in a night that has felt like a fever dream.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you admit, nodding slightly toward Heeseung, who is watching from a polite distance, looking confused but not angry. “He looks… like someone your dad would approve of.”

Karina lets out a short, bitter laugh. “My dad’s been trying to marry me off to him since I was in middle school.”

“But too many golf metaphors?” you try to joke, but it doesn’t even land anymore.

She shakes her head. “No, he’s actually one of the better ones. He’s kind, honest, considerate. Pretty sure he’s liked me since high school.”

“So then why aren’t you there with him?” you ask softly.

She shrugs, a small, fragile movement. “Maybe the person he likes isn’t really me. Maybe he just likes the idea of me.”

She wobbles again, her heel slipping on the marble.

“Okay,” you say, tightening your grip. “That’s enough philosophy for one night. Let’s get you upstairs.”

“I’m not drunk,” she protests weakly, though she doesn’t pull away.

“You can’t even stand straight.”

“Fine,” she mumbles. “Maybe a little.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you.”

You drape your jacket over her shoulders and guide her toward the elevators. The noise of the party fades behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the elevator. She leans against the mirrored wall, watching you.

“So where’d you go tonight?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

“Somewhere I shouldn’t have been,” you admit, thinking of the closet, the cameras, the smell of sex. “I should’ve just stayed with you.”

“Was she pretty?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Who?”

“Minjeong.”

You don’t answer. You just watch the numbers climb.

“I know you went to find her,” she says, not accusingly, just stated like a fact. “You always do.”

“Maybe I should stop.”

“So did you find her? Did you save her?”

“I found her,” you whisper. “But I don’t think she wants to be saved.”

“Minjeong doesn’t need saving,” she says, softly. “She’s one of the strongest people I know.”

“I wish I knew that before I left you waiting all night.”

She smiles, but she doesn’t look happy. “Kind of sad, isn’t it? The heart wants what it wants. You can’t stop it.”

You exhale.

“Maybe it’s for the better, anyways,” she mutters, looking down at her shoes.

You look at her. “What do you mean?”

She pauses. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t defend you at dinner. I was a coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” you say firmly. “You did defend me. You did everything you could.”

“That’s what everyone always says,” she whispers bitterly. “You did what you could, Jimin. It’s not your fault.”

The elevator dings, opening onto her floor. She stumbles out, and without thinking, you sweep her up into your arms.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, wrapping her arms around your neck, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Trying to see how heavy with guilt you are,” you joke weakly.

“You’re so brave.”

“What, you think I’d drop you? I carry things for a living.”

She laughs. “Please don’t. There are other ways to make me fall for you.”

You feel a sudden heat rush to your cheeks and the urge to ask, “like what?” but you decide to keep your mouth shut and just carry her down the hall as her head rests on your shoulder.

“You never sent me any snarky commentary about the award speeches,” she mumbles into your neck.

“I actually missed the whole thing,” you say, stopping at her door. “Were they any good?”

You fish the keycard from her bag, scanning it with a soft beep. The angel keychain sways from the touch, the crystal reflecting a bit of the light from the ceiling.

“Not at all,” she says, lifting her head slightly as the door swings open. “You know, it was supposed to be our gala but for some reason Jang Wonyoung won everything. She really is the ace around here.”

“You’re the only ace in my eyes. Everyone else is just either blind or has no taste.”

She pouts. “Don’t be mean. She’s a nice girl.”

“Just calling a spade a spade.”

You step inside, and the difference hits you instantly.

The suite you were in earlier felt like a crime scene. This room is warm. The soft golden glow from the lamp sweeps over the plush furniture, and there’s a faint scent of vanilla in the air, probably from a diffuser. It feels gentle and safe. Just like her.

You set her down gently on the edge of the bed, and she kicks off her heels with a sigh, wiggling her toes.

“Water,” you say, pouring her a glass. “Drink it. All of it.”

She smiles, amused. “Someone’s bossy tonight.”

While she drinks, you wander toward the living area. On the sideboard, there’s a vintage record player spinning silently. You glance at the sleeve resting next to it—some old jazz album. You drop the needle, and a soft, relaxing rendition of Fly Me to the Moon fills the room.

You walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city actually looks peaceful from this height. It’s hard to believe that down there, people are screaming counts and setting off fireworks. Up here, it’s just quiet.

You stare at your own reflection in the glass—hair disheveled, bowtie loose, eyes tired. And yet somehow, someway, Karina still wants you near her.

“My father hates this song,” she says softly from behind you.

You turn. She’s standing in the soft glow of the lamp, barefoot now, holding her glass of water with both hands. Without her heels, she looks smaller. Less like the Yoo Jimin from the gala and more like the girl who buys you pastries when you’re tired.

“Perfect,” you joke. “Then he hates everything that’s in this room with you now.”

She steps closer, setting the glass down on a side table. “We should’ve done this hours ago.”

“What?”

“Disappeared,” she says, slowly walking toward you. “Together. Hide from the world.”

“The night isn’t over. We still can.”

“Good,” she says, looking up at you through her lashes. “Because I believe you still owe me a dance.”

“You can barely stand,” you say as your hands brush her arms.

“Then hold me up,” she says simply, wrapping her arms around your neck. “I trust you.”

The world outside those windows becomes a distant backdrop that doesn’t matter anymore. In here, the universe has shrunk down to the size of this room, filled only with the sound of the music and the warmth of her body.

You rest your hands on her waist and begin to sway, moving slowly to the relaxing jazz rhythm. It’s intimate, far more intimate than you’ve ever been with her. But after the violence of the closet, this tenderness feels both dangerous and necessary.

“Why do you even waste your time with me?” you ask, holding her close.

“You’re not a waste of time,” she whispers against your chest, her eyes closing. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to be Yoo Jimin. I can just be Karina.”

You blink. “There’s a difference?”

“Yoo Jimin is Head of Design,” she says bitterly. “FIT graduate. Eldest daughter of the Yoo family. Kim Minjeong’s older, more established cousin. She’s not allowed to make mistakes. She has to be perfect.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t think Karina is perfect.”

She pulls back to look at you, eyes shimmering in the dim light. “I’m not perfect,” she says softly, cupping your face. “I’m so far from it.”

“You are to me.”

She shakes her head, almost fearfully. “No,” she whispers. “Trust me. I’m not who you think I am. I’ve done some really horrible things in my life.”

“I don’t believe that at all.”

“You should,” she says, her hands tightening in your hair. “Because one day when you find out, you’ll just run away again.”

Her voice cracks on the last word. You don’t say anything at first. You just reach up and brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she looks at you like she’s nervously waiting for a specific reply.

“I don’t know what ghosts you’re fighting,” you say gently, lacing your fingers through hers. “But I know that you’re gentle even when no one is watching. I know you’re kind even when you’re exhausted. I know you care about people who don’t deserve it. So I’m sorry, you can stand there and try to push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, she just looks at you, as if there were a thousand words screaming in her head that couldn’t be said out loud. And in that gaze, you realize that you haven’t had another sip of alcohol, and yet the room is spinning.

Outside, the sky fractures into different fragments of light. The first firework detonates—a bloom of gold and violet light reflecting in the floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating the inches of space left between you. The boom nearly rattles the windowpane, but neither of you flinch.

“It’s midnight,” you say, eyes locked with hers.

“Yeah,” she whispers, staring right into yours.

Neither of you say another word, but the sound of fireworks and cheers from outside manage to leak into the space that only exists for you and her.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she breathes, her voice barely audible.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to kiss me.”

“Should I—”

She doesn’t wait. She kisses you first.

It’s soft, tasting of champagne and longing, a stark contrast to Ningning’s violence and Winter’s emptiness. Her lips gently tug against yours, politely squeezing in the space between them with a sweetness that robs the oxygen from the room.

She pulls back, breathless, resting her forehead against yours. “Happy New Year,” she says, smiling against your face.

“Happy New Year, Karina,” you say, rubbing your nose against hers, still chasing the taste of her lip balm.

“Are you going to disappear now?” she asks, tracing the line of your jaw.

“Do you want me to?”

She shakes her head. “No. Stay here. With me.”

You kiss her again. Slower, more tenderly, more lovingly—as if everything in the world led to this moment that you don’t want to end.

“…But if your suit still wants to vaporize,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I won’t complain.”