Chapter 25

Now my fucking luck is finally turning.

Roughly thirty minutes earlier, Park Gil-pyeong had been humming merrily to himself. For a while, everything had seemed infuriatingly stalled, but lately his luck had begun to swing back in his favor. The Iljang Trading thugs had paid a fat wad of cash in rent, swelling the balance in his Crevit account, and the latest auction had brought in an especially satisfying profit.

The promised introduction to new buyers in Seoul had never materialized, but the fact that Iljang Trading still hadn’t found that brat Lee Hee-joong meant Park could hardly call the arrangement a loss. Ordinarily, he would have whined, bargained, or schemed for a larger cut. But his counterpart was Iljang Trading. Ruffling their feathers even slightly was a reliable way to end up with a ventilation hole punched through his gut.

Moreover, the new red jewel he purchased during the auction was thoroughly to his liking. The brutal heat had made lingering in the neighborhood unbearable, preventing him from sampling the boy just yet, but judging by that flat stomach and pretty face, ramming into him was bound to be sensational. Even if the boy carried a bit more muscle than his usual taste, that merely added a novel flavor.

‘Mind if I stop by your auction tomorrow, Boss?’

Furthermore, while drinking earlier, a striking, well-built gentleman who had naturally joined his table showed keen interest in the auction. Sporting wavy, shoulder-length hair tied loosely at the nape and heavy clusters of ostentatious rings glittering across his fingers, the stranger reeked of immense wealth.

The man had mentioned losing one of the jewels displayed at his residence in Seoul and said he wanted to inspect any hidden stones Park kept tucked away. Grade did not matter, he claimed; if the color caught his eye, he would pay whatever Park asked. The promise had sent Park Gil-pyeong’s greed soaring.

Riding high on rare good cheer while blood steadily pooled south of his belt, Park was on his way into the village at an hour he never normally visited. Having spent the last few days sorting out the auction revenues and laundering the funds, his intent tonight was to finally break in and fuck that red jewel he had neglected. That, unquestionably, had been his initial objective.

What checked Park Gil-pyeong’s stride just as he was about to barge straight into that room was the faint trickle of running water. While he already extorted utility fees from the boys under the guise of electricity bills—frankly charging far more than actual consumption—wasting water illicitly still demanded a proper dressing-down. Huffing and stomping halfway down the corridor, he registered a wavering silhouette through the shower stall door and realized someone was inside.

He didn’t even need to close the distance. The figure padding out of the shower room was Geum Seoul. Yet something was jarringly unfamiliar. Though clad in long pants and a long-sleeved shirt, the garments hung loose and roomy, and his exposed forehead revealed bright, striking eyes that were usually hidden from sight.

Park Gil-pyeong’s rapacious gaze raked over Geum Seoul with predatory sharpness. Wet chestnut-brown hair. Slender, delicate arms peeking beneath pushed-up sleeves. An armful of silicone prosthetics. Heavy, padded garments. Sizing up the situation with shrewd instinct, a broad, grotesque grin split Park Gil-pyeong’s face. Hah, you’ve been hiding this all this time? Geum Seoul.

Staggering closer with a leer, Park Gil-pyeong roared, “Seoul-aaah!”

At that call, the clothes dropped. The unobstructed view revealed a trim, completely flat stomach. Yet far more arresting was the breathtaking face above it. Park Gil-pyeong stretched out his beefy arms with a sickening leer. As if anticipating the horror about to unfold, Seoul’s amber-brown eyes widened in raw, naked terror.

Thud.

“Ah!” Seoul cried out in terror.

Before Geum Seoul could even draw breath to run, Park Gil-pyeong shoved him backward. Snuffing out any spark of resistance before it could ignite, he straddled the fallen youth and drove his heavy forearm down, crushing Seoul’s slender throat against the boards.

“Kh… ngh.”

Park Gil-pyeong asked with bloodshot eyes, “Come to think of it, I’ve never once stripped our Seoul-ie bare before, have I?”

If he had stripped him earlier, he would have caught onto the deception in a heartbeat. Struggling for air as he shoved frantically against Park’s wrist and elbow, Seoul’s face flushed a violent crimson. Unmoved, the thick, callous fingers kneaded the delicate facial contours without an ounce of mercy—groping and clawing as though ready to peel the flesh right off.

“Stop… it!” Seoul whimpered, struggling frantically.

Park slammed him hard against the boards. “Hold the fuck still.”

Determined to see if there were more fake attachments glued on, Park yanked Seoul’s hair until his roots throbbed, then forced his jaws apart. As the rosy lips parted, crude fingers invaded the wet mouth, pressing against teeth and violently violating mucous membranes and tongue. With a sharp click, the prosthetic retainer popped free from the small mouth.

“Hngh!”

“You actually know how to glare like that?” Park Gil-pyeong asked in sick fascination. “Just how much has this bastard been hiding?”

Despite being paralyzed with fear, the amber-brown eyes fixed on his wrist flared with a defiant gleam. Plump lips glistening faintly from where his fingers had just violated them. An immaculate forehead flushed pale pink from the fresh shower, framing rosy cheeks. A searing jolt of electric thrill surged straight up the nape of Park Gil-pyeong’s neck, wringing another breathless chuckle from his throat.

He leaned in close, reeking of sweat. “Fucking hell… Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d just shown this sooner? Huh?”

“…Get off me.”

“Get off? Get off? Why the fuck should I? What are you gonna do about it?” Park demanded, digging his forearm harder into the boy’s throat.

A crude, insolent sneer spread across his oily face. There was not a beast alive who would retreat simply because an errand boy—who had spent his entire life bowing his head, meekly murmuring yes, and taking whatever beatings came his way—was thrashing in resistance. If anything, Park was the breed of predator who would cackle and egg him on to struggle harder.

The brute grinned down with crude lust. “I’m starting to get hard, so keep at it, Seoul-ah.”

“N-No!” Seoul cried out, pushing desperately at the man’s chest.

With the weight crushing down on his forearm constricting his airway, Seoul clawed desperately at the thick limb, but Park Gil-pyeong merely cast his eyes downward and ran his other hand over the boy’s slender stomach. Sucking in ragged gasps, Seoul’s abdomen pulled taut and hollow, smooth and yielding under the man’s groping fingers without an ounce of excess fat to pinch.

A twisted leer curled his lips as his rough hand shoved beneath the cotton shirt. Massive, callous palms rubbed and kneaded the bare skin without a shred of consideration. Breathing heavily with undisguised arousal, Park puffed hot air against his face, each heave laced with the stench of alcohol and suffocating pheromones that made Geum Seoul thrash his head in revulsion.

Seoul cried out with the last of his strength, “Get… off me!”

“Ugh!” Park grunted as a desperate knee caught his ribs.

Oof.

Wheezing for breath in choked, strangled gasps, Seoul brought his flailing legs up and drove both feet square into Park Gil-pyeong’s gut. The strangulation robbed the strike of full momentum and their disparity in bulk prevented him from knocking the man away entirely, yet in the split second Park swung a massive wrist to bat his ankles aside, Seoul curled his body low and slipped out from underneath him.

Slap—pat.

Instantly, he broke into a frantic sprint.

“Gah!” Seoul cried out in pain.

Park Gil-pyeong lunged forward with a roar. “Where do you think you’re going, Seoul-ah!”

Whoosh.

Yet before he could make it down the corridor, a fist snagged the back of his collar. Though he wasn’t firmly caught, the savage yank threatened to tear the fabric from his back, pitching Geum Seoul hard across the floorboards with a violent crash.

Park bellowed in triumph, “You don’t even have anywhere to run!”

Crash!

His body slammed hard against an adjacent door, sending waves of bruising pain through his ribs, yet Seoul immediately planted his hands on the floor to push himself up. But his ankle had twisted violently in the fall, refusing to bear his weight. Stumbling through two failed attempts to rise, Geum Seoul scrambled backward on all fours, crawling across the floorboards to escape Park Gil-pyeong’s approaching boots.

Scrape—drag. His palms clawed across the splintered wood.

In that same heartbeat, a torrential burst of alpha pheromones crashed over Geum Seoul. A strange, low ringing filled his ears. His airway seized, bile surged into his throat, and his vision dissolved into blinding static as clear saliva slipped from his lips. For a moment, his body no longer seemed entirely his own.

Creeeak. Squeak.

“Ugh… don’t… come near me!” Seoul whimpered, choking on his tears.

In the dead of a rainless night, every scrape resonated down the hollow corridor. As several doors along both walls crept ajar, Geum Seoul’s fevered, bloodshot eyes turned pleadingly toward them. To the right of Park Gil-pyeong, who was strolling three paces behind with a taunting smirk, Rin poked his head out through a crack. Clamping a hand over his nose against the stench of pheromones, Rin’s furrowed brow locked onto Seoul’s bare face and went wide with astonishment.

Park Gil-pyeong taunted with a cruel smirk, “What? You think they’re gonna come save you?”

Catching the boy’s desperate gaze, Park Gil-pyeong let out a low, mocking scoff. Emitting a guttural chuckle akin to a slaughtered hog, he popped the front buttons of his shirt and spat a wad of phlegm onto the floor. At the same moment, Geum Seoul snapped his head sideways and retched uncontrollably. Though he could produce nothing beyond strings of clear bile, the violent spasms twisting his stomach made his trembling palms buckle against the wood. The oppressive miasma enveloping his senses turned the hallway into a strobing blur.

Snap!

Drag.

Taking advantage of the boy’s spasm, Park Gil-pyeong clamped a hand around Seoul’s ankle. With one brutal yank downward, Seoul’s head dragged along the boards, pulling him away from where he had been wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The raw heave clawing at his throat choked off any scream. As the looming black shadow fell over him, Seoul parted his lips, sucking in a ragged, desperate breath.

Click.

“Ah…”

Blink… flick. Within Seoul’s dimming field of vision, the cracked doors quietly swung shut. Rin, who had been peering out moments ago, and Bunhong, whose door had opened a span, both sealed their rooms. And as if he had anticipated this cowardly retreat all along, Park Gil-pyeong’s yellow-toothed grin filled Seoul’s entire vision. Grind. Geum Seoul gritted his molars. He had to run. A desperation rooted deep in his marrow flared like wildfire, and he threw his entire upper body into a violent wrench.

Crack!

A tensed elbow whipped backward with all his might, smashing squarely into Park Gil-pyeong’s jaw.

“Gah! You motherfucking piece of shit!”

His head snapped sideways for only a fraction of a second. Howling in blistering fury, a massive, cauldron-lid of a hand slapped across Seoul’s cheek. The deafening crack shook his entire skull to the core.