Chapter 41

“If I am to fit inside somewhere this tight, there is simply no other way.”

“What? Fit what into where?” Myeong-joo countered in sheer incredulity.

Yi-tan stared at him blankly for a second before his expression turned mildly exasperated. Then, he gently brushed his fingers over the tight entrance. “Instructor, when two men lie together, this is where they unite. Did you truly think I was preparing you here merely out of boredom?”

“…I did not say that, but…” Myeong-joo muttered under his breath.

Though Myeong-joo blurted out an excuse in defensive reaction to Yi-tan’s incredulity, the fact remained that he was utterly ignorant. The fingers tracing soothing circles around the taut ring of muscle—as if demonstrating reality to a stubborn child—set his nerves on edge. He could not tell whether Yi-tan saw through his confusion entirely, but the soft sigh that slipped from the youth confirmed that his ignorance had been laid bare beyond all doubt.

Yi-tan looked at him solemnly. “To think you knew nothing at all… Instructor, you must take me inside you. Will you be able to do that?”

He asked with grave, solemn eyes. Even with those fingers remaining deeply embedded inside Myeong-joo and that formidable heat rearing close against his belly, a cool, steady pressure radiated from Yi-tan’s gaze. How could he possibly say no? In a marriage where the terms and obligations had been so explicitly defined, what other answer existed? With a heavy sense of inevitability, Myeong-joo gave a slow nod. What else was there for him to do?

“Then that is enough.”

Yi-tan flashed a smile that made everything that had just transpired seem like a fleeting dream—a gentle, affectionate warmth that threatened to melt the tension along Myeong-joo’s spine. Yet this time, Myeong-joo was not fooled. Watching Yi-tan draw his fingers smoothly from inside and gather the glistening oil to coat his own rigid length, a sharp sense of peril gripped Myeong-joo’s senses.

“Hm, is this not quite enough?” Yi-tan mused, tilting his head in mild contemplation.

He reached toward the nightstand to retrieve the glass vial once more. Without hesitation, he poured a generous measure of the oil over his hand to coat his rigid length, then spoke with easy consideration. “Too much lubricant dulls sensation, but ensuring you suffer less pain is far more important than my pleasure.”

“Is it… is it going to hurt?” Myeong-joo’s voice trembled uncontrollably.

Gaze softening as though looking upon something endearing yet pitiable, Yi-tan smiled with a slight furrow of his brow, letting out a low, affectionate chuckle. “It might, yes.”

It was an ambiguous concession. As Myeong-joo parted his lips to stammer a reply, Yi-tan exhaled a soft, breathy murmur. “I never intended to rush this so hastily. As you must feel, Instructor… I am not entirely comfortable coming together with you in this manner either.”

“…”

Myeong-joo kept his mouth shut, swallowing his breath. Unbothered by the silence, Yi-tan continued in that calm, steady manner.

“Taking someone I’ve revered into my bed feels a little…” Yi-tan admitted, trailing off with a shy, diffident expression, like an awkward young lad stumbling over a confession of love. “I know full well how uncomfortable this situation must be for you, Instructor.”

Myeong-joo refused to tell him that his discomfort sprang from an entirely different well. His stubborn pride screamed at him never to let that secret slip.

Yi-tan smiled faintly. “I will try to make this quick. Still, it would be best if you could find some pleasure in the act as well.” A gentle smile parted his lips—a breathlessly handsome sight. “I hope we can enjoy this as much as possible without feeling coerced, so you will not instinctively dread our next encounter.”

Myeong-joo did not know whether to be startled by the mention of a next encounter or shaken by the acknowledgment of coercion. While he could hardly deny that an unbroken chain of pressures had brought him to this bed, their inner hearts were far from aligned.

“Fortunately, both you and I are already aroused, aren’t we?” Yi-tan tossed the remark out with a light, teasing grin.

Completely drained, Myeong-joo let his body sink limp into the mattress. All his frantic efforts to bite back his groans and avoid appearing pathetic suddenly felt absurd. Observing Yi-tan’s breezy nonchalance, he realized belatedly that there had been no need to struggle so desperately.

As if sensing his resignation, the dormant energy coiled deep in his chest suddenly flared into a turbulent vortex. It felt as though every vessel throughout his body were gorged to bursting with Harmonizer fluid. He endured the searing agony of his capillaries stretching to the verge of tearing apart. To suffer this familiar, violent spasm yet again—and in the middle of this bed, of all places—was a stroke of wretched luck. His cursed fortune in holding a wedding on such a day felt almost laughable.

Yet above all else, he could never let this abnormal agony be discovered. If Yi-tan realized his lifespan was numbered, this union would be branded an outright fraud. Myeong-joo had already calculated that if he could stabilize Yi-tan’s severe deficit before his own death—rendering his condition manageable enough to accept ordinary Harmonizers—Yi-tan might continue to care for Myeong-in and Myeong-hui to the end. After all, the man was a gentleman, surely honorable enough to fulfill that much.

He could not afford to be exposed beforehand. If his condition came to light after the crisis was safely resolved, that would be one thing, but beforehand, his intentions would sound like nothing more than flimsy excuses. Gritting his teeth against the searing spasms, Myeong-joo held his breath as quietly as possible, terrified that Yi-tan might notice his distress. Fortunately, the youth seemed entirely absorbed in positioning himself between Myeong-joo’s knees.

“I will enter just a little, and if that satisfies the harmonization, then for tonight we need not—hm?” Yi-tan muttered softly.

He had muttered something under his breath, but the words failed to reach Myeong-joo. He remained oblivious to the heavy, blunt mass pressing against his entrance, and unaware of the excess oil trailing in warm rivulets down toward his tailbone. Trapped within the vortex of inner pain, his vision bleached into blinding white.

“Ngh…”

A ragged gasp caught in someone’s throat. With only two of them on the mattress, it was impossible to tell who had made the sound. Oblivious to Yi-tan’s bruising grip locking down his pelvis, Myeong-joo could only pant in shallow, ragged bursts.

“Wait a moment…” Yi-tan groaned under his breath.

Myeong-joo thought he had heard Yi-tan let out a low groan. His passage was being forced steadily wider, yielding as something tried to push inside. Because the internal harmonization spasms were already so agonizing, the initial entry produced only a dull, heavy pressure. But in the next instant, strong arms wrapped around Myeong-joo’s shoulders like thick vines, accompanied by a shattering pain that felt as though his pelvis were being cleaved in two.

“Ah—gh!”

Whether he had swallowed a breath or choked one out, he could not tell. The agonizing intrusion forcing its way inside struck anew against sensory nerves that had only just begun to quiet down as the turbulent Harmonizer fluid subsided. Wide-eyed, Myeong-joo gasped for air in strangled hiccups, though in truth he could not even tell whether his eyes were open or closed.

If the earlier probing of fingers had produced a wet, squelching sound, this was a heavy, relentless friction that drove deep into his core, creating a merciless, pounding rhythm. Tossed about by each demanding thrust of Yi-tan’s hips, Myeong-joo rocked helplessly.

“Ah, ngh… khh…”

Nausea rose sharply, yet there was no time even to retch. His stomach felt completely upended. Desperately, he tried to shove away the source of his torment. At first, Myeong-joo believed his palms had struck a solid wall. But what met his hands was a firm, resilient chest, its powerful pectorals heaving rhythmically, yielding not a single fraction to his feeble shoving.

“Ugh, ngh…”

His legs were parted to their absolute limit. What had happened just moments ago, before this terrifying assault turned his insides upside down? He seemed to remember speaking with Yi-tan right before the Harmonizer energy went wild… With the relentless impact slamming into him from below, coherent thought proved impossible. The crushing weight pressing down upon him made the simple act of drawing breath a monumental chore.

Yes, they had certainly been talking. Then Yi-tan had guided himself against Myeong-joo’s entrance, explaining that this was how two men united. He seemed to recall something about hoping they would both enjoy it, but how had it turned into this brutal ordeal…?

Myeong-joo struggled to piece together the hazy fragments adrift in his dazed mind. Beyond mere numbness, his hips felt on the verge of fracturing. Pushed to their physical limit, his trembling legs had begun to spasm. Grasping for any reprieve, Myeong-joo managed to press his palm against the chin of the man tormenting him.

“…Ah!”

Yet in the next heartbeat, the air froze in his lungs. The figure looming over him, driving into him with crushing, suffocating force, was none other than Lee Yi-tan.

With Myeong-joo’s palm still resting against his lower face, Yi-tan gazed down at him through the splayed fingers. Rough, heated pants washed over Myeong-joo’s skin. For a dizzying instant, Myeong-joo fancied that those eyes were glowing like polished agate—an olive hue, or perhaps blazing gold. Usually dark hazel or chestnut, that flashing golden gaze made Myeong-joo feel as though he had locked eyes with a caged predator.

This was not the Lee Yi-tan he knew. That man was gentle, gentlemanly, forever considerate of an inadequate instructor…

Clutching at him, Myeong-joo gasped, “Second Lieutenant—ugh… Second Lieutenant…! Wait, just a moment…!”

He pleaded repeatedly, pushing at the youth’s face with both hands and pounding against his broad chest. Yet Yi-tan did not halt the relentless drive of his hips. Only then did Myeong-joo notice that the man’s eyes were unfocused—glazed and heavy as though drunken or possessed by some wild enchantment. It was entirely unlike Lee Yi-tan.

“Second Lieutenant, please… listen to me, ngh… ah…!”

He did not know whether urging him to come to his senses would do any good, but seeing that vacant, reason-starved stare left Myeong-joo with no choice but to plead. Yet Lee Yi-tan paid no heed to his words. Soon, Myeong-joo could not even manage a coherent plea.

“Ngh, what are you—ah!”

Hooking his hands beneath Myeong-joo’s knees, Yi-tan hoisted his hips high off the mattress, bearing down with unrestrained ferocity to drive deep inside him once more. Wide-eyed with astonishment, Myeong-joo could see with mortifying clarity the slick, glistening friction where their bodies met. Those dilated eyes conveyed his utter shock, but Yi-tan seemed blind to it, refusing to abate a rhythm as relentless as a hammer striking a chisel.

“Ah, ahh… ngh, please…!”

Before long, Myeong-joo forgot even how to beg. With that thick, formidable crest relentlessly claiming every corner within, there was nothing he could do. Pinned beneath Yi-tan’s weight with his knees driven upward, he could no longer reach to push the man away. Myeong-joo felt as though he had been staked to the earth, entirely helpless against the downward force driving into his core.

“Ngh… khh…”

Each time the flared crest withdrew slightly, it plunged back in with renewed momentum, grinding deep into his sensitive passage as if unsatisfied until reaching the absolute limit. Taut, pulsing veins ridging the shaft pressed distinctly against his inner walls, the sensation impossibly vivid. As it drew back, the broad crest gathered the pooled camellia oil with a dragging friction, and the moment the ridge caught at his entrance, it served as an unmistakable herald for the next deep thrust.

“Ah, ahh…”

Myeong-joo moaned like a man bereft of his wits; he had no other recourse. While he intermittently felt a burning gaze upon him, he possessed no mental clarity to verify it. Whenever their eyes met, the man above him seemed an utter stranger.

Yet that sensation might simply stem from the unfamiliarity of the act itself. Quite naturally, Myeong-joo had no concept of how Yi-tan behaved in bed or how he shared physical intimacy with another. Thus, this unbridled man plundering his innermost depths felt entirely disconnected from the Yi-tan he knew. Even as he reasoned through this, a strange sorrow tightened in his chest.

He could no longer fathom why he had trembled so nervously before climbing into this bed. Perhaps, deep down, he had nurtured some secret expectation. Only now did Myeong-joo comprehend why he had lived his entire life as a bachelor without ever desiring another soul. Even when harboring no outward expectations—even while treating him merely as his younger sister’s husband—a buried corner of Myeong-joo’s subconscious had longed to share flesh with this man. That was why he had remained entirely indifferent to intimacy with anyone else.

“Ugh, ngh…” A shuddering tremor wracked his shoulders.

Yet here Yi-tan was, bending him, pinning him down, and crushing him beneath an unyielding weight. Had Myeong-joo truly believed this man would treat him with gentle restraint? His naive expectation had missed the mark entirely. A faint intuition whispered that ordinary men did not couple in such a brutal manner.

“Ah, Instructor…” Yi-tan breathed in a strained rasp, calling his title in an exhaled sigh.

As if answering its rightful master, the Harmonizer energy that had pooled violently in Myeong-joo’s chest began to surge forward. Generated deep within his cells and released across permeable membranes, the harmonization fluid rushed through Myeong-joo’s blood vessels. It bloomed across his fevered skin and welled through his mucous membranes, enveloping the Aberrant’s demanding warmth.

“Khh…!”