V1S3C2

If you’re bored, then tell me a story, Kang-soe urged eagerly.

But Yeom-gon stated there was something they had to do first. What is it? Just as Kang-soe was about to ask, he snapped his mouth shut. Instinctively trying to scramble away, a hand shot out of the darkness, grabbing him and effortlessly slamming him onto his back. In the blink of an eye, Kang-soe was pinned to the stone floor. Had Yeom-gon not cradled the back of his head, Kang-soe would have cracked his skull against the rock. Yet he felt absolutely no gratitude for the save.

“…Hy-Hyung-nim.”

You can’t do this. He trembled violently like a sheltered maiden cornered by a bandit, but it was futile.

“We have to do this once a day regardless. Why waste energy fighting it?”

“But…”

“It is an unfamiliar act, so of course it is difficult. But as you yourself said just moments ago, who is perfect on their first attempt? By practicing and building experience, it will naturally become easier. Even if it is arduous and embarrassing, we must endure this for a hundred days. If you blush and resist so fiercely already, it makes me feel embarrassed.”

“…That’s…”

“So, when you said you were sorry, was that all a lie?”

Was I spewing empty apologies without a shred of genuine remorse? The commanding tone made Kang-soe’s shoulders shrink inward. Put that way, it did sound hypocritical. A wrong is a wrong, and an apology should be backed by action.

Right. A real man draws his sword and cuts the rotting radish, even if it’s unpleasant.

It would be over if he just endured it for a moment. Dragging it out only made it more agonizing. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kang-soe puckered his lips. He felt Yeom-gon’s large hand gently cradle his head. Plunged in absolute darkness, deprived of sight, his hearing and sense of touch were hypersensitive, making him startle easily. As he flinched and trembled, Yeom-gon lightly tapped his cheek, whispering soothingly.

“If you endure this well today, I will tell you the story you are so curious about. Hearing that… well, it will alleviate your boredom for a little while, will it not?”

With that promise, Yeom-gon pressed his lips gently against Kang-soe’s. As the soft skin made contact and a wet, intrusive tongue pried his lips apart, Kang-soe swore he felt the man smile against his mouth. Was it an illusion born of the dark? As their hot breaths mingled, a feverish heat began to rise within him.

His stomach felt ticklish.

As the kiss deepened, it felt as though invisible fingers were lightly stroking his lower abdomen. And as his breathing grew ragged and their bodies pressed closer, he felt something inside his core begin to stir and twist.

Not twisting—spinning.

Is it the same thing? Kang-soe thought dizzily, his eyelashes fluttering. When am I supposed to breathe? Pinned down and unable to escape, shifting his body was impossible. He tried to exhale slowly through his nose. He was still suffocating. It felt as though his very life force was being stolen from him.

Against the backdrop of the roaring water, why did the wet sound of their lips seem so incredibly loud? Deprived of sight, every sound and sensation was magnified tenfold. When is this going to end? The intimate contact made his heart pound against his ribs, and paralyzed by sheer embarrassment, Kang-soe prayed for it to be over swiftly.

His racing heart must have sent the blood southward, because suddenly, his manhood surged to life. It rose exactly as it did during his morning urges, but this time it showed no signs of subsiding.

Come to think of it, I kind of need to pee, too.

He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, yet his bladder felt full. He was profoundly annoyed by his own unruly body. Acutely embarrassed, he tried to inch his hips backward, but as he moved, a whisper brushed against his lips: Not done yet. They broke apart for a split second before reconnecting, denying him even a moment to take a full breath and calm his racing heart.

Left with no other option, Kang-soe adopted a reverent mindset and began chanting the old leather-worker’s advice in his head. Like a monk reciting sutras, he chanted it over and over, desperately trying to soothe himself. Miraculously, the mantra worked, and his pounding heart began to steady. As he focused entirely on breathing through his nose, the invasive, probing tongue finally stilled.

Is it over?

He cautiously cracked an eye open, but saw nothing but the void. Thank the heavens it was pitch black; how could he possibly face the man otherwise? His face burned as if held over an open flame. The lips finally retreated. Having that constant, overwhelming contact severed left him feeling bizarrely empty. A sharp, localized ache pulsed below his waist, prompting him to quickly press a hand down to hide the evidence.

He can’t see it in the dark. Praying for exactly that, he used his free hand to scrub his wet mouth. He intended to wash it off in the rushing water, but Yeom-gon declared they weren’t finished, grabbing his waist and hauling him back. Did anyone ever truly get used to this in just a few days? Having another man’s flesh aggressively invade his mouth continually reminded him of the snails, causing his body to squirm in involuntary revulsion.

He writhed so much he steadily pushed himself backward until his head bumped against the cave wall. Pressed against the damp, cold stone, he had nowhere left to retreat. Yeom-gon closed the distance, pinning him completely, leaving not an inch of space between them. As Yeom-gon warned him that squirming would only prolong the process, Kang-soe swore he heard a low, animalistic growl vibrating in the man’s chest.

The deeper Yeom-gon pressed and the more thoroughly he ravaged Kang-soe’s mouth, the drier Kang-soe’s throat became, and the fiercer his lower half throbbed. Pinned so tightly he couldn’t even use his hand to press it down, Kang-soe trembled with the terrifying anxiety of being discovered. Oh god, this is bad. Desperate for a distraction, he clung to his makeshift mantra once more.

Nine shallow, one deep. Three left, three right. Engage but do not release.

Nine shallow, one deep. Three left, three right. Engage but do not release. Nine shallow, one deep. Three left, three right. Engage but do not release. Nine shallow, one deep. Three left, three right.

“Engage but do not release.”

“…?”

Having chanted it internally throughout the entire kiss, he hadn’t realized it was over and had unconsciously mumbled the final phrase aloud. Realizing his blunder, he frantically shook his head, insisting it was nothing, but Yeom-gon had clearly heard every syllable.

“Engage but do not release?” Yeom-gon repeated, a smirk evident in his voice.

“…”

He heard everything. Why is he pretending he didn’t? The man was completely inscrutable. Not that Kang-soe ever truly understood him, but still. Kang-soe grumbled inwardly.

“Why did you suddenly say that?”

Hot breath ghosted across his face. Instinctively turning his head away, Kang-soe offered a frantic, rambling excuse.

“I’m completely uneducated, so I don’t know any real sutras. That’s the only phrase I have memorized, so I was just reciting it, that’s all!”

“And why exactly were you reciting sutras?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Because I needed to pee.”

This damn bladder. He lightly smacked his own stomach and subtly pushed down on his groin. In that moment, a breath ghosted down his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and a line of cold sweat racing down his back. His throat felt parched. Surrounded by an ocean of water, yet he was dying of thirst. Kang-soe swallowed hard.

“Ah, you know how it is. You wake up with a full bladder, and it just… stands up, doesn’t it?”

“…What stands up?”

Yeom-gon was about to ask exactly what stands up when the bladder is full, but snapped his mouth shut. Even so, laughter bubbled up and escaped past his tightly pressed lips.

“Wh-what is so funny?”

Is a man needing to pee really that hilarious?

Yeom-gon denied it. His hand reached out, gently tracing Kang-soe’s face, his fingertips lingering on his lips.

“Does reciting sutras help calm it down?”

“Of course it does! All my older brothers said the same thing!”

“Your older brothers…”

Of course, his brothers recited the Thousand Character Classic or actual Buddhist sutras. He was merely imitating the practice with the only phrase he knew. As long as you get to Hanyang, it doesn’t matter which road you take. Laugh if you want to laugh, Kang-soe muttered defensively, but Yeom-gon denied laughing at him again. Whispering sweetly that there are many people in the world and such things are entirely possible, Yeom-gon then strictly instructed him never to forget that specific phrase.

“However, it would be wise not to say it aloud in front of others.”

“Why is that?”

“Because most people take those words lightly and mock them. Though, truthfully, few actually know how to execute them properly, so it’s nothing to laugh at.”

What does it actually mean? Remembering the leather-worker’s incredibly smug, knowing grin when he taught him the phrase, Kang-soe scrunched his face in extreme irritation.

I’m definitely going to ask someone else what it means someday.

“Then do you know how to do it properly, Hyung-nim?”

“…”

“You’re incredibly strong, and, well, you aren’t human. Plus, you seem to know a lot about… this kind of thing.”

The pot calling the kettle black. Was he acting superior because he actually knew how? Kang-soe chuckled, playfully prodding the man. In a normal situation, he never would have dared speak so boldly, but the words slipped out easily in the dark. Yeom-gon didn’t reply immediately. The silence stretched for a moment before he let out a long sigh—but it sounded exactly like a suppressed laugh.

“Little brother.”

“Yes?”

“Little brother. Little brother.”

The repetitive calling felt incredibly ominous. Only then did the sheer audacity of his own words hit him, and Kang-soe nervously scratched the back of his head. I misspoke. He was just opening his mouth to apologize when Yeom-gon beat him to it.

“I can.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can do it very well. Nine shallow, one deep. Three left, three right. Engage but do not release.”

“Well…”

It’s not hard to just parrot the words back. Kang-soe was about to retort, but swallowed the words when he realized Yeom-gon’s tone mirrored the very phrase he had been chanting. Yet when Yeom-gon said it, it sounded infinitely more threatening. It was more terrifying than the time his eldest brother had defaulted on a loan and debt collectors had stormed their courtyard, smashing their wooden platform to splinters.

Especially the way Yeom-gon articulated the final phrase—Engage but do not release—enunciating each syllable with heavy, deliberate precision. Kang-soe, despite having no idea what the words meant, felt a profound chill race through his body. Ultimately, deciding survival was better than pride, he completely surrendered.

“Of course you can! You are Hyung-nim, after all! Who else could? Naturally. Engage but do not release. Haha. Truly impressive. Wow. Sister-in-law is going to be very lucky.”

As Kang-soe furiously wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, Yeom-gon patted his shoulder in a mockingly comforting gesture.

“You must master it as well, little brother.”

“Engage but do not release. Yes, engage but do not release. I must. I can do it well too.”

Nodding vigorously in agreement, he was met with generous praise for his determination. Yet the underlying amusement in Yeom-gon’s voice never wavered, leading Kang-soe to suspect the man was wearing that terrifying, enigmatic smile. What is he thinking about, hiding in the pitch-black darkness? A sudden wave of profound embarrassment hit him, and his earlobes burned hot. Rubbing his burning ears, Kang-soe subtly edged away. Scrambling backward on his hands and knees, he only felt he could breathe again once he had put some distance between them.

Oh god. I’m going to age ten years today.

Sitting curled in a ball, an inexplicable wave of exhaustion washed over him. As he exhaled slowly, blinking his heavy eyes, Yeom-gon asked if he was sleepy. Come to think of it, he did feel sleepy. Or maybe he didn’t. Just moments ago he had been so wired and bored his body felt twisted in knots, yet now, having done nothing physical, a deep lethargy settled into his bones.

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted.”

Exhausted? I was terrified out of my wits. Kang-soe secretly jutted his lip out in a childish pout. Knowing Yeom-gon couldn’t see him in the dark, he stuck his tongue out and pulled a ridiculous face. Doing so made him feel slightly better.

Anyway, why is he asking if I’m sleepy?

He definitely had an ulterior motive. Peering suspiciously into the dark toward Yeom-gon’s voice, Kang-soe suddenly remembered the promise made before the kiss. He’s asking if I’m sleepy so he can get out of telling the story! He was hovering on the edge of sleep, but Kang-soe pinched his own cheek hard to banish the drowsiness and spoke up.

“By the way, Hyung-nim. Didn’t you promise to tell me your story once today’s session was over?”

“I did.”

“Then…”

Then keep your promise.