黑帮三三

The salty sea air clung to the dock as Park Dae-geun stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his squat, muscular frame barely reaching the shoulder of his lieutenant beside him. At a hundred fifty-five centimeters, he was used to looking up at the world, but tonight he felt the weight of his father's legacy pressing down on him like a stone. The old man lay in a hospital bed, poisoned by the Japanese bastards from Jukjiki, and now the mantle of Daemun had fallen on his eldest son's shoulders.

The ship appeared on the horizon, cutting through the gray waters of the East Sea with the quiet authority of a beast that knew its territory. White hull, no flags, but everyone on the waterfront knew who owned that vessel. Park Dae-geun straightened his jacket, a cheap polyester thing that strained over his barrel chest, and watched as the boat eased into the slip.

Two figures stood at the bow. The woman was impossible to miss: Yi Mei'er, the eldest daughter of Cheongryong's boss, stood tall at a hundred seventy-five centimeters, her wavy chestnut hair catching the dying sunlight. Even from the dock, Park Dae-geun could see the generous curves of her body, the way her white blouse strained over a chest that had no business being that full, the flare of wide hips that tapered to a narrow waist. Her face was soft, with eyes that held a warmth that seemed out of place among the hard men who surrounded her.

Beside her stood Li Qing, the eldest son of Hyeonmu's patriarch. He was smaller, at least five centimeters shorter than his fiancée, with a lean frame that spoke more of bookish intelligence than street violence. He had a boyish face, the kind that would look young even at fifty, and he kept one hand lightly on Yi Mei'er's elbow as if steadying himself on her strength.

The gangplank lowered with a clatter. Park Dae-geun walked forward, his thick legs moving with the deliberate pace of a man who had spent years in the back alleys of Yedongshi. He stopped at the base of the plank and offered a bow.

"Welcome to Yedongshi, First Heirs of Cheongryong and Hyeonmu," he said, his voice rough and sincere. "I've arranged accommodations at a seaside inn for your stay."

Yi Mei'er descended first, her heels clicking against the metal. She moved with a natural grace that seemed to make the grimy dock look like a stage. "We appreciate the hospitality, Mister Park. Our ships have passed through these waters many times, but this is my first time setting foot on Black Gold Island."

Li Qing followed, landing softly beside her. "Heard a lot about this place. The markets are supposed to be something special."

"Nothing compared to what the underground has to offer," Park Dae-geun said, allowing himself a tight smile. "I'll show you both around. My car is waiting."

The sedan was a black Hyundai, unremarkable and slightly worn. Park Dae-geun took the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel with the same intensity he brought to everything. As they pulled away from the dock, he glanced in the rearview mirror at his two guests.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said, his voice dropping. "You know why I asked for this meeting. Daemun is old. We've been on this island since before the Chinese and the Koreans divided it up. We know every back street, every blind alley. But Jukjiki came in three years ago, and they've been eating into our territory like rats in a grain silo."

"Mister Park," Yi Mei'er said gently, "Cheongryong has noticed their movements. They're aggressive, but they lack reach. A strong response would put them in their place, but we need to understand their backing first."

"My father is in the hospital because of them." Park Dae-geun's voice cracked despite himself. "They didn't even have the decency to shoot him. They poisoned him like a dog. I have three brothers, and I'm the one left holding this mess together. I'm not asking for charity—I'm asking for an alliance. Cheongryong and Hyeonmu are the biggest families in the region. With your support, we can drive Jukjiki back to their islands."

Li Qing leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the front seat. "I get it, brother. I really do. But these things take time. Cheongryong is the bigger clan here—they've got the resources to handle Jukjiki if it comes to that. Hyeonmu has numbers. But if we rush into something without a full picture, we make mistakes. How about this: we're here anyway. Let's spend a few days seeing the island, get a feel for your operation. After all, people like us don't usually get to visit our own territories. We have lieutenants for that."

Yi Mei'er nodded, her eyes meeting her fiancé's. "Li Qing is right. A little patience will serve us better than a hasty agreement."

Park Dae-geun sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine. But first, let me take you to your families' compounds here. The Cheongryong warehouse is on the east side, near the fisheries. Hyeonmu has a business office in the central district. The locals are loyal to you, but they should see your faces."

They made the rounds: a vast concrete building reeking of dried fish and diesel, where Yi Mei'er spoke to her father's men in a quiet, authoritative tone that left no doubt she was in charge; a cramped office above a billiard hall, where Li Qing shook hands with men who looked at his slender build with barely concealed skepticism. By the time they finished, the sun had set and the neon lights of Yedongshi's main drag were flickering to life.

Park Dae-geun drove them to a beachside inn, a modest two-story building painted in faded pastels. "I wanted the Grand Glass Hotel," he admitted, pulling into the gravel lot. "Best view in town. But it's under renovation. The day it reopens, I'll be the first to invite you back. For now, this place has clean sheets and good food. My treat."

He got out, opened the doors for them, and gave a curt bow. "I'll check in tomorrow morning. Rest well."

The inn was quiet. Yi Mei'er and Li Qing took a corner room on the second floor, a simple space with a window that faced the dark ocean. The waves crashed in a steady rhythm, muffled by the glass.

Li Qing lay on the bed, flicking through television channels, while Yi Mei'er disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room for a long time.

When she emerged, she wore a black lace teddy that left almost nothing to the imagination. Thin straps clung to her shoulders, the fabric barely containing the heavy swell of her full breasts, while the cut of the garment showed off the generous curve of her waist and the wide, inviting slope of her hips. Her hair was damp, curling against her neck, and she moved with a slow, deliberate sensuality as she crossed the room and flopped onto the bed beside him.

"You're not watching," she murmured, pressing her body against his side.

Li Qing set the remote down. "I was. Just... lost in thought."

She rolled onto her stomach, stretching like a cat, the black lace riding up against the pale skin of her thighs. "Thinking about what?"

"You know what."

"It'll be fine." She reached down, her fingers brushing against the front of his pants. "We've always found our way through everything. This is no different."

He stiffened under her touch, but not from tension. She felt the familiar small bulge growing against her palm, and she smiled—a real, loving smile that turned her elegant features into something soft and girlish.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

She unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down along with his boxers, and took him into her hand. Eight centimeters fully erect, thin, almost delicate. To her, it was all she had ever known, and all she ever wanted. She leaned down and took him into her mouth, her lips sliding over the shaft with practiced tenderness.

Li Qing let out a long sigh, his head falling back against the pillow. "Mmm... that's good..."

She worked him with slow, careful strokes, her tongue pressing against the underside, until he was fully hard and slick with her saliva. Then she lifted her head, straddled his hips, and guided him inside her.

The feeling was always the same: a gentle fullness, but never depth. His length was too short to reach the deepest parts of her, but he fit snugly inside her warmth, and that was enough. She rode him slowly, rocking her hips, her breasts swaying above him as she leaned forward to press her lips to his forehead.

His hands found her waist, holding her through the movement. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

"So are you."

Five minutes. That was all it took. His body tensed, and he let out a sharp, strained moan as he finished, a thin release that left him trembling and breathless. "Ah... ah... I need... half a month to recover..."

Yi Mei'er collapsed beside him, her arm draped over his chest. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "You worked hard."

He turned to face her, his face flushed with contentment. In the dim light from the window, they looked at each other, two people who had been promised to each other since they were children, who had grown up side by side, who had learned love before they learned fear.

"Sleep," she said, pulling him close.

They held each other as the ocean churned outside, their bodies tangled in the sheets, two hearts beating in a rhythm that neither politics nor violence could ever break.

After shaking off the pursuit, the two boats had barely any fuel left. They had to conserve every last drop. Neither of them knew exactly which stretch of sea they were drifting into. Park Dae-geun’s small, shabby fishing boat was nearly empty, while Yimei’er’s luxury yacht still had a little left. She used her yacht to tow Park Dae-geun’s boat, the thick rope straining as the smaller vessel followed obediently.

Dae-geun peered through his binoculars, scanning the horizon. Far ahead, a dark shape broke the endless blue. He adjusted the focus and saw a small, uninhabited island, wild and jagged. He recognized it from old charts he’d seen once. Sea Snake Island. A remote, desolate scrap of land far from Black Gold Island. No one lived there. No one even went there.

He grabbed the radio. “Yimei’er, you see that island? Sea Snake Island. We can make it there if we push it. What do you think?”

Yimei’er’s voice crackled back, calm and steady. “I see it. Our fuel won’t get us much farther anyway. Let’s head in. There’s a natural harbor on the south side. We’ll anchor there and wait for Li Qing to come for us.”

The two boats limped toward the island. As they entered the sheltered cove, the water turned a clear turquoise. The harbor was small but deep enough for both vessels. Dae-geun cut his engine and let the last momentum carry his fishing boat to a stop. Yimei’er guided her yacht in close, the massive white hull dwarfing Dae-geun’s tiny rust-eaten craft. The two boats bobbed side by side, the big yacht and the little fishing boat pressed together like a mismatched pair taking comfort in each other.

Yimei’er stepped onto the deck of her yacht and picked up the radio to call Li Qing. She waited through a few bursts of static before his voice came through.

“Hey, sis. You guys okay?”

“We’re safe for now. We’ve landed on an uninhabited island called Sea Snake Island. But our fuel is almost gone. We can’t move.” She paused. “When can you get to us?”

Li Qing’s voice turned grim. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a while. The Chikuzu gang sent a bunch of thugs to block the refueling points. I can’t get fuel anywhere. I’m going to have to wait for the headquarters of the Xuanwu Gang to send a big boat from the mainland. That’ll take about three days.”

Yimei’er’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

“There is some good news,” Li Qing added. “I heard the Dabang gang sabotaged the Chikuzu boats. They can’t attack you from the sea anymore. At least not for now. Say, how are you and Brother Dae-geun doing? You two alright?”

“We’re fine. Don’t worry.” Yimei’er kept her voice neutral. “We’ll manage here. Just come as soon as you can.”

“Will do. Stay safe.”

She hung up and turned to look at the island. It rose before her, green and wild, covered in twisted trees and tall grass. A narrow path led inland, but it was overgrown with weeds that reached waist-high. In the distance, she spotted a small, weathered shack, its roof half-sagged, its wooden walls gray and cracked from years of sun and salt.

She went below deck and changed into the only clothes she had left: a plain white shirt and a simple black skirt. Simple, but clean. She stepped off the yacht onto the sandy shore where Dae-geun was waiting.

“Ready to explore?” he said with a grin.

They followed the path together, brushing aside the tall grass. The shack was empty. A broken chair, a shattered window, a layer of dust on everything. It had been abandoned for years. No one else was here. Just the two of them, the sea, and the silence.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they gathered driftwood and built a fire on the beach. Flames crackled and danced, casting flickering shadows on the sand. Yimei’er sat close to the fire, hugging her knees. She stared into the flames for a long time before speaking.

“Dae-geun,” she said quietly, “why did you come back for me? You could have gone with Li Qing in the same direction. You could have escaped.”

Dae-geun tossed a stick into the fire. “I figured those Chikuzu bastards would want to kill you. They want to crush the Qinglong Gang. And I know those guys better than anyone. They’re vicious. They don’t stop.” He looked at her, his eyes serious. “I had to protect you. And besides…” He hesitated. “To be honest, I really do…”

He didn’t get to finish. Yimei’er leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was sudden, fierce. It started soft, then deepened. She pushed into him, her hands gripping his shoulders. He responded, pulling her closer. Their mouths moved together, growing hungrier, more desperate. Tongues met, tangled, exploring. They kissed until they were breathless, kissed until the fire seemed to burn hotter around them.

Finally, she pulled back, her cheeks flushed, her breath ragged. “I’ve always kept myself calm and steady for the sake of the gang,” she said, her voice trembling. “Li Qing has loved me since we were kids. I’ve always looked after him, protected him. He sees me as the woman he wants to marry. And I… I see him like a younger brother. I thought I had to marry him. For the alliance between the Qinglong and Xuanwu gangs. For our families.”

She looked down, then back up at him. “But you… You’re the only one who ever risked your life to protect me. Who treated me like someone worth saving, not just a symbol. I think… I think I might have feelings for you. But I’ve been burying them. Suppressing them. I… I…”

Dae-geun reached out and took her hand. “You know what I love about you, Yimei’er? This. The real you. Even if you marry Li Qing, I don’t care. I just want you to know that there’s someone who puts you above the gang, above the families, above everything. If you love me and keep me in the most important place in your heart, I’ll be satisfied. I love you, boss lady of the Qinglong. I love you, Yimei’er.”

Her eyes glistened. The hesitation melted from her face. She stood up, and with deliberate slowness, began to unbutton her white shirt. It fell to the sand, followed by her black skirt. She stood naked before him, the firelight catching the curves of her body, her full breasts heavy and proud.

Without a word, she turned and walked toward the ruined shack. A few steps in, she glanced back over her shoulder, a challenge and an invitation in her eyes. If you really love me, she seemed to say, then show me the kind of man you are. Come.

Dae-geun rose. His cock, already fully erect, strained against his pants. He walked after her, his heart pounding. Together they disappeared into the darkness of the shack.

On the beach, the fire crackled. The sea lapped gently against the shore. And from the old shack, the sounds of a man and a woman came through the night: heavy breathing, gasps, the raw rhythm of bodies moving together. Dae-geun gripped Yimei’er’s hips as he drove into her from behind, her wetness slick and hot. She turned her head and smiled, then kissed him. His hands slid up to cup her big breasts, squeezing firmly. She moaned. One of her hands reached back to wrap around his neck while the other tugged at her own ass cheek, spreading herself slightly to accommodate his thick cock.

They fucked for thirty minutes before Dae-geun came for the first time. A massive load of thick, hot semen shot deep inside her. Yimei’er shuddered, her body trembling as the warmth filled her, a long moan escaping her lips. The orgasm went on and on, spurting for a full three minutes before it finally stopped.

She sank to her knees, still panting. Then she smiled—a lustful, loving smile—and took his cock into her mouth. She worked him with devotion, her tongue sliding along the shaft, her eyes looking up at him. Within minutes, he was hard again, as if he’d never stopped.

The second round began.

An hour later, after four rounds, Dae-geun decided to take things to the boat. He lifted Yimei’er into his arms, carrying her out of the shack and down to the small fishing boat. She kissed his face all the way—his cheek, his jaw, his neck—each kiss filled with genuine affection. He set her down on the deck of the little boat, and it began to rock as they made love again. The waves lapped against the hull. Yimei’er’s cries of pleasure mingled with the sound of the sea, her voice filled with joy.

They went at it all night. Through the darkness, the little boat rocked. Round after round. They fucked until the stars began to fade and the sky turned pale pink. By the time the sun rose, Dae-geun had come more than a dozen times, each load thick and deep inside her.

The next morning at ten o’clock, Dae-geun woke up in the cramped cabin of his fishing boat. Sunlight streamed through the dirty porthole. He felt sore but satisfied. He heard footsteps on the deck, and then Yimei’er appeared in the doorway. She had brought food from her yacht. She smiled at him, a tender, loving look.

She leaned down and kissed him softly. “The sun’s burning your ass, you sleepyhead. Time to wake up, little lazy bug.”

The radio crackled with Li Qing’s voice. “Yi Meier, listen to me. My ship needs some paperwork before it can leave. Can you wait another five days?”

Yi Meier’s mouth was full, her lips wrapped around Pu Dagen’s cock as she fumbled for the radio handset. She pressed the talk button, moaning between slurps. “Mmm~ mmh~ buh no good~”

Li Qing’s tone shifted with confusion. “Huh? What are you eating?”

Yi Meier froze, realizing her predicament. She pulled her mouth away just enough to speak, her mind racing. “Ah—I’m on my yacht, having a popsicle. I can’t stop, it’s melting. I’ll talk while I eat.”

Li Qing seemed to accept that. “Oh, I see. Do you have enough supplies?”

Yi Meier resumed her task, her words punctuated by wet, sucking sounds. “Mmh~ yeah~ shlrp~ mmm so big—ah, right, the supplies are big. I mean, plenty. Enough.”

They talked on, Li Qing asking about fuel, water, and the condition of the yacht. Yi Meier answered between gasps and swallows, her free hand gripping Pu Dagen’s thigh. When Li Qing finally seemed satisfied and signed off, Yi Meier let out a long breath and collapsed onto Pu Dagen’s chest.

On that deserted island, the two of them had already confirmed their feelings. They knew this had to be a secret forever, hidden from the Li family and everyone else. For now, they wandered the beach, hand in hand. Pu Dagen sat in the sand, cracked open a coconut with a rock, and drank deep. Then he turned his head and took Yi Meier’s nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing gently. She laughed, shivering, as her fingers found his arousal beneath the waistband of his shorts.

For days they were inseparable. They made love in the jungle, on the bow of her massive yacht, and in the master cabin as the sun set. At night they kissed under the stars, salty skin pressed together. In the shower, Yi Meier squealed as Pu Dagen soaped her back. “You’re impossible,” she pouted, her voice soft and teasing. “You never stop.”

Later, she emerged from the cabin in a white one-piece bikini, the cut high on her hips. She struck a pose. “Well? Do you like it?”

Pu Dagen didn’t answer with words. He scooped her up in a princess carry, and she shrieked with joy, her arms wrapping around his neck. They were glued together, unwilling to let go.

Days passed. Then one morning, a fuel tanker appeared on the horizon, and Li Qing’s voice came over the radio again. Yi Meier and Pu Dagen greeted him like old friends, their faces betraying nothing. Yi Meier kissed Li Qing on the cheek. “Thank goodness you came.”

Pu Dagen slapped Li Qing on the shoulder. “I thought I’d be a wild man forever, Brother Li. So glad you’re here—I can finally go home.”

The three of them laughed together, the atmosphere as casual as ever.

A month later, Li Qing and Yi Meier were married. The ceremony symbolized the enduring friendship between the Qinglong and Xuanwu gangs. At the reception, Pu Dagen walked up to the bride, splendid in her white gown. “Congratulations. And that dress—you look beautiful.”

Yi Meier smiled her thanks.

As the evening wound down, duty called. A problem at the Xuanwu branch meant Li Qing couldn’t drive his new wife home. He trusted only Pu Dagen for the task. “Take her home safely for me, will you?”

“Of course, Brother Li.”

Pu Dagen drove, Yi Meier in the back seat in her wedding dress. On a deserted stretch of road, he checked the rearview mirror, saw no one, and steered the car into a field of tall reeds. The engine cut off. A moment later, the car began to rock gently.

Inside, Pu Dagen was on top of her, her white dress bunched around her waist. “You look amazing,” he breathed. “In this dress… stunning.”

Yi Meier’s fingers tangled in his hair. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

An hour later, he drove her home.

A few days after the wedding, Li Qing and Yi Meier were seen laughing over coffee in a city café, the picture of a happy couple. No one would ever know the truth.

One evening, Yi Meier emerged from her dressing room in a red gown with a slit up to her hip, the fabric barely containing her full breasts. Black lace stockings peeked through the slit. Li Qing looked up from his phone. “That’s a bit much for a casual night out. Where are you off to?”

Yi Meier adjusted her diamond earring. “Oh, the Damen gang’s fortieth anniversary party. I was invited.”

Li Qing nodded, ever trusting. “Alright, take care.”

In a secret ballroom beneath the Wager Hotel, Pu Dagen met Yi Meier. They kissed deeply, then spent five hours in the king-sized bed. Yi Meier sighed against his chest. “Stay with me a little longer.”

Pu Dagen grinned. “Tonight, I’ll screw you until you can’t walk.”

Yi Meier laughed. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Her phone rang. Her expression shifted instantly—smooth, powerful, the boss of the Xuanwu gang. “Hey, little sister. What’s wrong? Nobody picked you up at the port?”

Pu Dagen whispered, “I can send my younger brother, Pu Jingshuo, to get her. What’s her name?”

“Yi Ke’er.”

He made a quick call, then turned back to Yi Meier. They resumed their secret congress.

Pu Jingshuo never suspected anything beyond normal gang relations. Yi Ke’er thought her sister’s household was perfectly ordinary.

And so the story of Yi Meier and Pu Dagen came to a rest—for now. The next chapter would follow Yi Ke’er, Li Tian, and Pu Jingshuo. But that was for another time.

The gray waters of Yedong Harbor churned under a low sky as Park Jingshuo pulled his black sedan to a stop near the pier. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, his stocky frame barely filling the driver’s seat, though his muscles strained the fabric of his jacket. At 158 centimeters, he was not an imposing man by height, but the dense ropes of sinew across his shoulders and arms spoke of years of brutal labor and street fights. His face was plain, almost homely, with a flat nose and small eyes that held a restless, hungry gleam.

He checked his phone. The ferry from the mainland wasn’t due for another forty minutes. Plenty of time. He was about to step out when his phone buzzed.

“Jingshuo-hyung,” said the voice of one of his junior gang members, breathless with excitement. “I found you a real prize. A whore, fresh from the mainland. Gorgeous. You want her? I got her right here.”

Park Jingshuo grunted, irritation flickering across his face. “I’m busy. I have to pick someone up at the dock.”

“Busy? Hyung, listen—she’s at the dock. Right now. Just take a look. If you don’t like her, no harm done.”

Park Jingshuo’s eyes narrowed. He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble. The ferry wasn’t here yet. A quick look wouldn’t hurt. If she was really hot, he could send her ahead to his private villa—the so-called Second Branch Office, which was really just his personal mansion—and have her wait in his bed. After he completed the pick-up, he could come home and enjoy himself. The thought sent a warm pulse through his groin.

“Fine,” he said. “Where exactly?”

“Near the main warehouse, hyung. You’ll see her. Tall, long black hair, wearing a black dress. You won’t miss her.”

Park Jingshuo ended the call and stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket. He walked toward the waterfront, the salt wind biting at his face. The pier was mostly empty—a few dockworkers loading crates onto a small cargo ship, a seagull pecking at a fish head. Then he saw her.

She stood near a stack of shipping containers, looking out at the water. She was tall—at least 176 centimeters, with legs that seemed to go on forever under a high-slit black cheongsam. The dress was cut daringly low at the chest, the fabric straining to contain a pair of full, heavy breasts that pressed together in a deep cleavage. Her hair was a waterfall of jet-black silk, straight and glossy, falling past her shoulders. Her face was striking: sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that were both fierce and magnetic. When she turned to look at him, those eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch.

He felt a grin spread across his face. This was definitely the girl. No question. He walked up to her, his steps confident.

She opened her mouth to speak. “你来了，我…” (You’re here. I…)

He raised a finger and pressed it gently against her lips, silencing her. “I know you’re waiting for me, and I’ve been waiting for you too. But tonight I have another job to do first.” He spoke in Korean-accented Chinese, his tone oily with assumed familiarity. “Here’s the address of my Second Branch Office—it’s just a big villa where I live alone. I’m giving you a spare key. Go there, make yourself at home. But I suggest you take a shower and wait for me, baby.”

He slid a key into her small handbag before she could refuse. Then, with a casual boldness, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his palm landing on the warm curve of her arm. Her body stiffened, but he didn’t notice. His hand slid down, greedily cupping the side of her breast, squeezing through the silk.

The woman’s eyes went cold. A dangerous shimmer passed through them, like the glint of a blade. She caught his wrist with surprising speed and twisted, and there was a sharp crack as his wrist dislocated.

“Ah! Fuck!” Park Jingshuo cried out, dropping to his knees, his face contorted with pain. “Too much! Even if you don’t want to provide service, you don’t treat a customer like this!”

The woman stared down at him, her expression hard as stone. “I am Yi Ke’er of the Qinglong Gang,” she said, her voice low and cutting. “I have never been so insulted by such a cheap, greasy hand. I should break your arm to teach you a lesson.”

Park Jingshuo’s eyes widened. The pain sharpened his senses. “Yi Ke’er? You’re the second-in-command of the Qinglong Gang? Sister of Yi Meier?” He scrambled to his knees, still cradling his injured wrist. “I thought you were… I thought you were someone else. Please, let me go. I’m Park Jingshuo, the acting boss of the Daemen Gang—my brother Park Daegun runs the whole show. I was sent here to pick you up. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake.”

Yi Ke’er released his wrist, her eyes still unreadable. “So you’re the contact my sister mentioned.”

“Yes, yes!” Park Jingshuo stood, quickly straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair, trying to salvage some dignity. “Welcome to Yedong, Miss Ke’er. That earlier… that was a misunderstanding. I’m actually a very proper gentleman, I hope you don’t think ill of me.”

At that moment, a flustered junior gang member came jogging around the corner, dragging a heavily made-up woman by the arm. The woman wore a cheap red dress, her face caked with powder, her lips painted a garish pink. She looked confused and annoyed.

“Hyung!” the junior called out. “Sorry, I had trouble finding this bitch—she didn’t know where the dock was. But I brought her personally. Look, isn’t she something? Want me to take her to your villa?”

Park Jingshuo’s face flushed deep red. He wanted to sink into the concrete. He covered his face with his good hand, peeking through his fingers at Yi Ke’er.

Yi Ke’er’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “So,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement, “you’re that kind of ‘proper gentleman’?”

Park Jingshuo opened his mouth, but no words came. He turned and shot a glare of pure venom at his junior, who shrank back, realizing he had made a catastrophic blunder.

Yi Ke’er walked past him and opened the passenger door of his sedan. She slid inside, crossing her long legs. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice all business now. “Take me to the private seaside villa that Qinglong Gang has prepared for me.”

Park Jingshuo nodded meekly. “Yes, of course, Miss Ke’er.” He got into the driver’s seat, refusing to look at his trembling junior, who stood frozen by the dock.

As the car pulled away, Park Jingshuo began to talk, his words tumbling out in a hurried stream. “Please understand, that was a terrible misunderstanding. I would never intentionally disrespect a representative of the Qinglong Gang. My brother would kill me if he knew. I am truly a man of principle in my work—I was just momentarily confused by the coincidence…”

Yi Ke’er gazed out the window at the gray sea, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips. She did not interrupt him, but she also did not reassure him. The silence between them was heavy with the weight of reputation and the thin line between insult and accident.

Park Jingshuo kept driving, his injured wrist throbbing, his mind already racing with how he would salvage this for the face of the Daemen Gang. But in the passenger seat, Yi Ke’er had already catalogued the incident, filed it away, and decided that this small, ugly man would be useful—or disposable. She had not yet decided which.

Three days had passed since the confrontation on the dock, and the morning sun cast long shadows across the island's industrial sprawl. Park Jingseo parked his black sedan outside the Xuanwu Gang's second division building—a squat, concrete structure that looked more like a warehouse than a headquarters. He adjusted his jacket, stepped out, and walked through the metal door into the dimly lit interior.

Inside, Li Tian sat behind a cluttered desk, a stack of papers and a half-empty coffee cup before him. He looked up as Park Jingseo entered, offering a nod that was neither warm nor cold. Li Tian was a man of average build, standing about 170 centimeters, with a lean frame that suggested he relied more on his mind than his fists. At twenty-seven, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that came from being one of the many sons of the old Xuanwu Gang leader—specifically, the second son of the second brother of the boss's eldest son, Li Qing. But here on the island, he was just Li Tian, the new second-in-command of this outpost.

Park Jingseo flashed a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Li Tian, Second Boss, you've been on the island a week now. Getting used to the place?" He glanced around the spartan room—a few metal chairs, a filing cabinet, a map of the island pinned to the wall. "Looks like you and I are in the same boat. Lone wolves guarding our respective divisions."

Li Tian set down his pen and leaned back. "Ah, you're wrong there, Park Jingseo. It's two now, you know. My fiancée—the woman I'm engaged to—she came with me."

Park Jingseo's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "Oh, is that so? Who's the lucky woman who managed to catch the heart of Xuanwu Gang's number two, Li Tian?"

Before Li Tian could answer, footsteps echoed from the stairs leading to the upper floor. A woman descended, dressed in a fitted olive-green OL suit that hugged her curves. Her face was bright with a sweet, playful smile as she called out, "Honey, look what I found—a cat! Isn't it adorable?"

Park Jingseo's blood ran cold. The woman was Yi Ke'er.

Yi Ke'er froze mid-step when she saw Park Jingseo. The sweet smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold professionalism. She clutched the stray cat—a scruffy tabby—a little tighter and lifted her chin. "Well, well. Isn't this the second boss of the Damen Gang? Park Jingseo."

Li Tian blinked, looking between them. "Ah, this… you two know each other?"

Yi Ke'er's lips curled into a wicked smile. "I think we're acquainted enough. And speaking of which, honey, I was going to ask you to take me to the Damen Gang's second division later. But I suppose I don't need a guide now, do I, Mr. Park Jingseo?" Her eyes glittered with malice.

Park Jingseo pretended to examine a crack in the wall, then a smudge on the window, anywhere but at Yi Ke'er. He coughed, trying to mask his discomfort. "Uh, well, the weather's nice today, isn't it?"

Li Tian frowned. "What's going on between you two?"

Yi Ke'er waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing important. Just some small, trivial matter. Not worth mentioning." She shot a glare at Park Jingseo that said otherwise.

Li Tian, sensing that pressing further would only cause trouble, shrugged. "If you say it's nothing, then it's nothing."

Park Jingseo seized the opportunity to escape. "Well, I should be going. Lots to do at my place." He turned and strode toward the door, his shoulders tense.

Behind him, Yi Ke'er and Li Tian exchanged a quick kiss on the cheek—intimate and casual, a gesture born of deep familiarity. Park Jingseo reached the doorway, then glanced back. He caught Yi Ke'er's eye, stuck out his tongue in a childish mock, and made a raspberry sound. "Blehhh! Stupid woman."

Yi Ke'er's face flushed with anger. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. She let out a frustrated sigh, then a defiant huff, and turned away. Li Tian watched Park Jingseo leave, then shook his head with a rueful smile. Whatever bad blood existed between those two, it was clearly not his fight.

Once Park Jingseo had gone, Yi Ke'er and Li Tian retreated upstairs to their private quarters. The room was modest but cozy—a bed with rumpled sheets, a dresser, a lamp casting soft light. Yi Ke'er dropped the cat, which promptly disappeared under the bed, and wrapped her arms around Li Tian's neck. She nuzzled into him, her demeanor shifting from cold adversary to affectionate lover. She kissed his lips repeatedly, soft and insistent, trying to ignite a fire between them.

Li Tian responded, his hands finding her waist. She quickly tugged at his belt, unzipped his trousers, and knelt before him. Her mouth found his cock, which had risen to a modest nine centimeters. She didn't hesitate, taking him in her mouth with practiced ease. Then she pressed her full breasts against it, enveloping the shaft entirely in the soft valley of her cleavage. The sight of his small erection buried in her ample flesh made her hum with satisfaction.

She guided him onto the bed, then straddled him, her body moving in a frenzy. She rocked her hips, her breath coming in quick gasps. Li Tian lasted barely six minutes before he came—a weak spurt that didn't reach deep inside her. The semen was thin, watery, and the volume so meager that the chance of pregnancy was nearly nonexistent. He collapsed onto his back, exhausted, his breathing labored. He would need a long rest before he could go again.

Yi Ke'er leaned down and planted a tender kiss on his cheek. "You did well, sweetheart. That was good. Next time, we'll do even better." Her voice was soft, loving, full of reassurance.

Two days later, Yi Ke'er stood at the gate of the Damen Gang's second division villa—a two-story house with peeling paint and a neglected garden. She pressed the doorbell with a sense of purpose.

Park Jingseo opened the door. His face soured instantly. "Wow. What wind blew you here? This wind is not good at all." He spoke through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the doorframe.

Yi Ke'er kept her composure, a confident smirk on her lips. "I just wanted to see what kind of jungle a savage like Park Jingseo lives in."

"Where's your fiancé? Li Tian?" Park Jingseo snapped.

"He's busy. I'm just taking a look around. Won't be long." She stepped past him without waiting for an invitation.

Park Jingseo muttered under his breath. "Excuse me. I need the bathroom." He slipped into the downstairs toilet, locked the door, and pulled out his phone. He dialed his older brother, Park Daegun.

"Hyung, what the hell are you thinking? Do you know what kind of trouble you've landed me in? That woman is a menace!"

On the other end, Park Daegun was sprawled in a chair, his trousers around his ankles. Yi Mei'er knelt before him, her mouth working his massive cock with fervent devotion. He grunted into the phone. "Ahh… comfortable… Brother, don't let it get to you. Treat it as a test of your character. As your boss, I command you to keep your temper in check. Ooh… ooh…"

Park Jingseo frowned. "Hyung, why do you keep making weird noises?"

Park Daegun's voice was strained. "Uh, it's just my daily muscle training. You know, the grunts. Ooh… ooh… ahh… I'm busy now, I'll hang up." The line went dead.

Park Jingseo stared at his phone. "That guy has some weird habits." He shrugged it off and flushed the toilet for effect.

Meanwhile, Yi Ke'er stood in the living room, surveying the sparse furniture with disdain. She pulled out her own phone and called her older sister, Yi Mei'er.

"Hey, big sis. How are you and Brother Li Qing? Married life treating you well? I just wanted to say congratulations." She paused, her voice turning bitter. "I ran into Park Jingseo the other day. That man makes me so angry. He did something bad to me. Ugh, I hate him. He's disgusting."

On the other end, Yi Mei'er had Park Daegun's cock deep in her throat. She pulled back with a wet pop. "Mmm… mm… ah… Little sister, you're a grown woman now. You should know that judging someone based on one encounter isn't wise. Mmm… so big!" She moaned the last words unintentionally.

"What's so big?" Yi Ke'er asked, puzzled.

Yi Mei'er scrambled for a lie. "Nothing. I'm eating a popsicle. It's a bit—mmph—big! Ah! This popsicle is huge!" She shoved Park Daegun's cock back into her mouth to stifle her cries.

Yi Ke'er rolled her eyes. "Okay, weirdo. Enjoy your popsicle." She hung up, convinced her sister was just being her usual odd self.

In the bathroom, Park Jingseo splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the irritation. He had a feeling this woman was not going to be easy to get rid of.

Ike'er continued her tour of Park Jingseok's villa, moving through the spacious rooms with casual curiosity. The place was impressive—modern architecture blended with traditional Korean elements, expensive furniture, and art pieces that probably cost more than most people made in a year. But as she pushed open the door to the master bedroom, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The room was a disaster.

Clothes were strewn across the floor like a tornado had swept through a department store. Empty snack wrappers littered the nightstand. The bedsheets were twisted into a tangled knot, half hanging off the mattress. A half-empty cup of what looked like old coffee sat on the windowsill, and several books lay open and face-down on the carpet, their spines likely cracked from the abuse.

Ike'er's lips curled into a mixture of disbelief and amusement. She stepped inside, careful not to trip over a stray sneaker, and surveyed the chaos with raised eyebrows.

"This is..." She picked up a crumpled shirt from the floor and held it at arm's length. "This is absolutely tragic. A grown man living like a college freshman after finals week."

Park Jingseok leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I've been busy. Haven't had time to clean."

"You haven't had time to clean for the past six months, apparently," Ike'er shot back, dropping the shirt into a nearby laundry basket that was already overflowing. She rolled up her sleeves and sighed. "Fine. I'll help you this once."

"You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to. I'm choosing to, out of the goodness of my heart and my deep, profound pity for you." She grabbed a trash bag from under the sink in the adjacent bathroom and started tossing empty wrappers into it. "But let me be clear: this is a one-time deal. There won't be a second time. If you need someone to clean up after you, get your girlfriend or wife to do it. Though, looking at this disaster of a room, I doubt you have either."

Park Jingseok frowned. "That's a bit harsh."

"Is it?" Ike'er held up a sock that had clearly been missing its pair for weeks. "This is the room of a man who has given up on life. Or at least on basic domestic skills."

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, knowing she wasn't entirely wrong.

She continued cleaning, her voice light but sharp. "Honestly, I can't imagine any woman wanting to spend time in here. Which explains why you had to have your underlings call an escort for you, right? Since you clearly can't get a date on your own."

Park Jingseok winced. The escort incident. Of course she was bringing that up.

"I get it," he said, his tone defensive. "I messed up. I thought you were someone else—"

"You thought I was a prostitute," Ike'er interrupted, not looking up from where she was folding a discarded jacket. "Because clearly, a woman showing up at your door could only be there for one reason."

"That's not what I meant—"

"I'm not mad," she said, and she sounded genuine. "Why would I be mad? You're just a pitiful, lonely man who has to pay for female company. A single, stinky man who can only satisfy his needs with escorts."

Park Jingseok stood frozen, caught between embarrassment and irritation. His face reddened. "I didn't... I mean, it didn't go anywhere. The escort thing. It was my first time trying, and it failed."

Ike'er paused, a folded shirt in her hands. She turned to look at him, her expression curious. "Failed? What do you mean, failed?"

He huffed, crossing his arms. "I mean it was my first time even attempting to hire someone, and I botched it. I'm still..." He grit his teeth, the words tasting bitter. "I'm still a virgin. If I hadn't mistaken you for someone else, I would have been done with it by now. Go ahead. Laugh. I know it's hilarious."

He braced himself for her mockery.

But Ike'er's face softened. She set the shirt down and turned to face him fully, her gaze serious. "I'm not going to laugh at you, Park Jingseok. Honestly, I don't think a man staying a virgin until he finds real love is a bad thing. I'm not going to mock someone for that."

Her words caught him off guard. For a moment, he saw a different side of her—not the sharp-tongued, teasing woman who had been tormenting him moments ago, but someone with genuine depth and understanding.

He felt a flicker of respect. *She's the second-in-command of the Blue Dragon Gang for a reason*, he thought. *There's a real wisdom to her.*

Then Ike'er smiled, and her tone shifted back to playful mockery. "But I don't think you'll find love in this lifetime, ever. And I'm too polite to laugh at a miserable wretch like you."

Park Jingseok's brief admiration evaporated. He shot her a glare and plopped down onto the sofa in the corner of the room, sulking.

Ike'er chuckled to herself and returned to her cleaning. She moved through the room with practiced efficiency, folding clothes, making the bed, dusting surfaces. Her movements were fluid and focused, and Park Jingseok found his eyes drifting toward her.

She was bent over, smoothing the bedsheet, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink. The loose neckline of her top gaped slightly as she leaned forward, revealing a glimpse of her cleavage—pale, flawless skin disappearing into the shadows of her dress. The curve of her breasts was impossible to ignore, and Park Jingseok felt his throat go dry.

She was stunning. A 176-centimeter-tall goddess with raven-black hair that shimmered like silk, a face that could launch a thousand ships, and a body that could make men forget their own names.

*Beautiful*, he thought without meaning to. The word slipped out, barely audible: "So beautiful..."

Ike'er straightened up, frowning. "What did you say?"

Park Jingseok snapped back to reality, his face flushing. "Nothing. I talk to myself sometimes. Don't mind me."

She studied him for a moment, then shrugged and went back to work, dismissing his mumbled words.

Thirty minutes later, the room was spotless. The floors were clean, the bed was neatly made, the laundry was sorted, and the trash was gone. Ike'er stood back and admired her work with a satisfied nod.

"There. That's how a grown man's room should look."

Park Jingseok got to his feet, looking around with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Ike'er. I mean it."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. Literally. Tell no one I did this."

He walked her to the front door, the silence between them somewhat awkward. As she stepped onto the porch, he spoke up.

"Ike'er. I really hope that our misunderstanding doesn't affect the relationship between the Grand Gate Gang and the Blue Dragon Gang. My brother specifically told me to maintain good relations with you. For the sake of both gangs' futures, I hope we can—"

Ike'er turned around, her expression unreadable. "And what about you? What do you personally think? Do you believe the Grand Gate Gang and the Blue Dragon Gang can truly cooperate?"

Park Jingseok blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"You're only talking about gang business," she continued. "I want to know what you think. Can you, personally, be friendly with me? More importantly, do you want to be? I want to hear your own thoughts."

Park Jingseok fell silent. The evening breeze rustled the leaves around them, and he stared at her for a long moment. She was beautiful. Sharp. Strong. And he felt something stir in his chest.

"Actually," he began slowly, "I think you're very attractive. I might... like you a little. Would you be willing to be my—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ike'er held up both hands, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Stop right there. I think you're misunderstanding something. I came to your house today to be polite and show the Blue Dragon Gang's goodwill. I have no romantic interest in you."

"That's fine," he said quickly, a note of desperation creeping in. "I can wait. Until you're ready."

"No, you can't," Ike'er said firmly. "Don't wait for me. Do you know why? Because I'm already taken, Park Jingseok. I have a fiancé. This flower already has an owner. I thought you knew—my fiancé is Litian. He hangs out with you all the time. You're good friends. Oh my god, he never told you about me?"

The color drained from Park Jingseok's face. His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open.

"Litian?" he repeated, his voice hollow. "Your fiancé is Litian?"

"Yes," Ike'er said, crossing her arms. "My fiancé is Litian. Your buddy. Your drinking partner. The guy you play poker with on weekends. He never mentioned me?"

"I..." Park Jingseok's mind raced, replaying every conversation he'd ever had with Litian. The man had mentioned a girlfriend, sure, but he'd never said she was *this* woman. The second-in-command of the Blue Dragon Gang.

"I was about to make a move on my brother's woman," he muttered, his face going pale. "I almost confessed. I nearly asked her to come inside and... and have ten kids with me."

Ike'er's eyes narrowed. "Ten kids?"

Park Jingseok froze, realizing he'd spoken aloud. "I... I said that out loud, didn't I?"

The silence stretched for an agonizing moment.

Then Ike'er's hand moved. *Slap.*

The sound echoed through the quiet evening air. A bright red handprint bloomed on Park Jingseok's cheek.

He stood there, stunned, his hand slowly rising to touch the stinging mark.

"That's for even thinking about it," Ike'er said coldly. She turned and began walking away, her footsteps sharp and quick on the pavement.

"I'm sorry!" Park Jingseok called after her, his voice earnest. "At least I'm honest! And I deserve that slap—I know I do!"

Ike'er stopped. She didn't turn around, but she spoke over her shoulder. "Yeah. You do deserve it. Having expectations like that about me? You definitely earned that slap."

She paused, as if waiting.

Park Jingseok took a breath and bowed deeply, his voice sincere. "Since there's no romantic future between us, let me at least work toward friendship between our gangs. And out of my personal respect for you, I want to earn your regard."

Ike'er turned slowly, a confident smile spreading across her face. "Then you'd better work hard to earn my respect. I'm not easy to impress."

"I understand."

"I'm expecting great things from you, Park Jingseok. Don't disappoint me."

With that, she turned and walked away, a cheerful tune humming from her lips as she disappeared down the path.

Park Jingseok stood at the door, watching her go, the red handprint still burning on his cheek.

*To be continued.*

The warehouse loomed in the industrial district, its corrugated metal walls rusted and graffiti-tagged. Li Tian killed the engine of the sedan and peered through the windshield. "This is the place. Intel says the Takeuchi Group has been cooking something here for overseas shipment."

Park Jingseok leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "If we can bust their operation, it'll cripple their supply chain for months."

Yi Ke'er sat in the driver's seat, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "And what am I supposed to do while you two play heroes?"

"Stay here. Keep the engine running. If we're not out in thirty minutes, call for backup and get clear," Li Tian said, opening his door.

"Fine. But don't get yourselves killed," she muttered.

The two men crossed the cracked asphalt toward the loading bay. The main door was ajar, a sliver of darkness visible beyond. Li Tian pushed it open, the metal screeching. Inside, rows of shelving units stood empty, dust motes swirling in the weak light filtering through grimy windows. Chemical drums sat stacked in a corner, labels peeling.

"Looks abandoned," Park whispered, his hand hovering near his holster.

"Too clean. They cleared out fast." Li Tian stepped deeper, his shoes echoing on concrete. At the far end, a makeshift laboratory bench held beakers and tubing, but no equipment remained. "We missed them."

From the shadows behind a support beam, two figures emerged. One was stocky with a shaved head, the other thin and weasel-faced, both grinning.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," the stocky one said.

Li Tian reached for his gun, but a hissing sound filled the air. A canister rolled across the floor, emitting a greenish vapor. Before he could react, his vision swam. Park slumped to his knees beside him, then toppled over. Li Tian's last conscious thought was of the weasel-faced man holding a bottle of dark liquid.

"Drink up, boys," the man said, forcing the liquid past Li Tian's lips. A bitter taste flooded his throat, then everything went black.

The stocky one laughed. "Two hours. That's all it takes. Their dicks will swell up like balloons, then pop. Dead as doornails."

The weasel-faced man nodded, wiping his hands on his pants. "Nice and quiet. Boss'll be pleased."

Neither noticed the shadow that slipped through the loading bay door.

Yi Ke'er had waited exactly three minutes before her instincts screamed at her to move. She'd left the car and crept in behind them, her pistol drawn. The scene before her made her blood run cold: Li Tian and Park unconscious on the floor, two thugs looming over them. She watched from behind a drum as the weasel-faced man bragged about the poison. Then she moved.

A swift strike to the back of the stocky one's head sent him crashing forward, unconscious. The weasel-faced man spun, but she was faster—a kick to his knee, a grapple that swept him to the ground. She pinned his wrist with her knee and pressed her gun barrel to his temple.

"Talk! What did you pour into them?"

The man whimpered, his free hand pawing at her grip. "It's... it's a drug we found last year. A compound. For men. In ten minutes, their cocks will get hard—uncontrollably. After two hours, they swell and burst. Explode. Kills them instantly. Unless they soften again."

"Bullshit. No such drug exists." She pressed harder. "How did they pass out? Tell me the truth."

"That's our special gas! We developed it. Puts you under for four hours minimum. I swear, that's all I know!"

Yi Ke'er's focus flickered for a split second—toward Li Tian and Park, toward the canister still leaking vapor. It was enough.

"Defense protocol!" the weasel-faced man screamed.

A mechanical whir sounded from above. A panel in the ceiling slid open, and a robotic arm descended, a pistol mounted at its end. The arm swiveled, aiming directly at Yi Ke'er.

She dove behind a steel drum as a shot rang out, the bullet sparking off the concrete where she'd been. Another shot, then another. She scrambled, using the shelving for cover. The arm tracked her, firing blindly.

The unconscious stocky man wasn't so lucky. A bullet caught him square in the chest. He jerked once, then lay still.

The weasel-faced man saw his chance. He pushed himself up, trying to run for the door. But the robotic arm malfunctioned, its final shot going wide—striking him in the back. He crumpled with a gurgling cry.

The arm went limp, its mechanism smoking.

Yi Ke'er waited a long moment, breathing hard, before emerging. The warehouse was silent. She hurried to Li Tian and Park. Both were still unconscious, but alive. She checked their pulses—steady. The gas container was empty. She dragged them one by one to the car, her muscles straining. Finally, she got them into the back seat and slid behind the wheel.

She drove. The city lights faded as she took side roads, trying to put distance between them and any possible pursuit. Halfway to the safe house, the engine sputtered. The fuel gauge needle hovered on empty. She cursed under her breath.

A patch of trees appeared to her left—a small forest preserve, deserted this late. She guided the car onto a dirt track and killed the engine. They were hidden. For now.

She turned to check on the men in the back seat. And froze.

Li Tian's trousers were tented. An obvious, straining bulge. Park's too, but more pronounced—a massive ridge pushing against the fabric, impossibly large.

Her heart sank. The weasel-faced man's words replayed: *In ten minutes, their cocks will get hard. After two hours, they'll burst.*

She glanced at her watch. They'd been out for nearly forty minutes. An hour and twenty minutes left.

*Unless they soften,* she thought. The man had said it: *Unless they soften.*

She shook Li Tian. No response. Slapped Park's cheek. Nothing. The gas would keep them under for four hours. They'd be dead long before that.

There was no other option.

With trembling hands, she unbuckled Li Tian's belt. She pulled his trousers and boxers down. His penis was erect, but modest—maybe nine centimeters, standing stiff and redder than usual. She moved to Park.

The sight made her gasp. His cock was enormous. Twenty-eight centimeters at least, thick as her wrist, rock hard, veins bulging like ropes. The smell was potent, musky, filling the car.

She straddled the space between them, one hand on each. She began to stroke. Slow at first, then faster. Her mind raced. This was insane. But what else could she do?

After three minutes, Li Tian moaned. His hips bucked. A shot of semen spurted across his stomach, and his erection softened.

She exhaled. One down. But Park's cock remained unchanged. Hard as iron.

She kept pumping. Ten minutes. Twenty. Her wrists ached. Park's breathing deepened, but he showed no sign of release. His penis pulsed in her grip, impossibly rigid.

At forty minutes, she was desperate. Her arms burned. Then Park stirred, his lips moving.

"Yi Ke'er... ah... you little cat... come on... give my big cock a tit-fuck..."

Her hand flew to his face. She slapped him hard. A red mark bloomed on his cheek, but he didn't wake. He only murmured, "Say you like it... smile... kiss the head..."

She looked at Li Tian. Still unconscious. He wouldn't see. She looked at the time. An hour and ten minutes left.

Her jaw tightened. She stripped off her jacket, then her shirt. Her bra came off, and her breasts spilled free—pale, heavy, full. She knelt over Park, lowering herself. The head of his cock touched the valley between her breasts. She pressed them together, engulfing the tip. It was so thick that her breasts were forced apart, the shaft sliding between them. She lowered further—the length was so long it reached her mouth. She could smell the musky scent of his glans, feel the heat radiating off it.

She began to move. Up and down. Her breasts slid over his shaft, slick with sweat. She leaned forward and kissed the tip, tasting salt. Park moaned in his sleep.

Suddenly, he sat upright. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed. He looked at her, but she wasn't sure he saw her—not the real her.

"Little cat... you love my big cock, don't you?" His voice was slurred, dreamlike.

She froze, then forced a smile. "Yes. I love it."

"Smile more. Kiss it."

She smiled, pressing a kiss to the head that peeked from between her breasts.

"Suck it. I'm going to cum."

She had no choice. She opened her mouth and took the head inside. He thrust up, burying himself. She gagged, but held on. A torrent of hot, thick semen flooded her mouth—so much that she struggled to swallow. It dripped down her chin. She forced it down, her throat working. The flow seemed endless. At last, he stopped and slumped back, his breathing evening out.

She sat up, gasping. His cock was softening.

She checked the time. One hour and fifty-five minutes. Just in time.

She cleaned herself hastily, dressed, and looked at Li Tian. He was still out. She let out a shaky breath. Good.

From the trunk, she retrieved a spare can of gasoline. She poured it into the tank, got behind the wheel, and drove.

After two hours, they reached a safe house. Li Tian stirred first.

"Ugh... what happened?" He rubbed his head. "My... my crotch feels strange. Like I've been drained."

Yi Ke'er kept her eyes on the road. "You were gassed. It's wearing off."

Park woke next, groaning. He touched his cheek—the red mark was fading. "Why does my face hurt? And... I feel great. Energized. Like I had a good dream." He frowned. "About you, Miss Yi."

"Don't bother remembering," she snapped.

He blinked, confused. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Just drop it."

He fell silent, sensing the danger. Whatever had happened, he knew better than to press.

In the rearview mirror, Yi Ke'er saw Li Tian staring out the window, oblivious. Park was massaging his jaw, his mind wandering.

She accelerated, leaving the warehouse and its horrors behind. No one spoke. Some things were better left unasked.

A week had passed since the last incident, and the morning sun cast a golden glow over the compound. Park Jeong-seok was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, when the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands on a towel and jogged down the stairs, muttering to himself. "Who the hell is it this early?"

He pulled open the front door and found Yi Ke'er standing there, holding a slim folder. She was dressed in a crisp white office outfit—blouse, pencil skirt, heels—looking as composed as ever. But her expression was tight, businesslike.

"Li Tian had to go out of town," she said without preamble. "He'll be back in three days. He asked me to deliver this text to you." She held out the folder.

Jeong-seok took it with his free hand. In his other hand, he was gripping a large live octopus, its tentacles writhing and coiling around his forearm. He had been planning to make grilled octopus for breakfast, and the creature was fresh from the market.

"Thanks," he said, glancing at the folder. "You could have just called."

"I was in the neighborhood." Her eyes flicked to the octopus. "What is that?"

"Breakfast. Want to stay?"

Before she could answer, the octopus's beak opened. A jet of black ink shot out, splattering across Yi Ke'er's white blouse and skirt. Dark stains bloomed instantly, ruining the fabric.

She stared down at herself, then back up at him, her face flushing with anger. "How did this happen? Now I'm covered in this stuff! I swear, every time I'm around you, something goes wrong."

Jeong-seok winced. "I'm really sorry. Here, come in and sit down. Let me get something to clean that up." He gestured toward the living room. "Please, just take a seat on the sofa. I'll be right back."

He hurried to the kitchen, dropped the octopus on the cutting board, and quickly sliced it into pieces, arranging them on a platter. He wiped his hands and went back to the living room.

The room was empty.

He frowned. "Yi Ke'er?" No answer. He checked the hallway, the bathroom. Nothing. She must have left, he thought. Probably too pissed off to stay.

Jeong-seok sighed. He had been up all night dealing with paperwork and hadn't showered since yesterday. The private hot spring at the back of the villa was calling his name. Since he was alone in the branch villa—no staff today—he didn't bother going upstairs. He stripped off his pants and underwear right there in the hallway, wrapped a towel around his waist, and padded barefoot through the rear door to the artificial hot spring.

The steam rose in lazy curls. He slid open the wooden door and stepped inside.

A scream cut through the warm air.

"Yah! What are you doing? I'm in here!"

Yi Ke'er was submerged in the hot spring, her hair wet, her face crimson. She had apparently decided to use the bath since her place was under renovation. She grabbed a long towel from the edge and wrapped it around herself, but her chest was enormous, and the fabric barely contained her. The tops of her breasts swelled above the towel, and Jeong-seok caught a glimpse of her areolas before he spun around and faced the wall.

"I didn't know you were here!" he stammered. "I thought you left!"

She clutched the towel, her voice shaking. "My apartment is being remodeled. The bathroom is out of commission, so I thought... Ah, just get out! Get out now!"

Before Jeong-seok could move, a car engine roared outside. Tires screeched. Then a series of sharp cracks rang out—gunshots. Bullets whizzed past, smashing through the glass skylight above the hot spring. Shards rained down.

Yi Ke'er reacted instantly. She dove sideways, rolling behind a stone basin, narrowly avoiding the line of fire. Jeanne-seok, still wearing only a towel, bolted out the back door. He sprinted to his car—a black sedan parked in the driveway—and jumped in. He cranked the engine and floored it, crashing through the wooden fence surrounding the hot spring.

"Get in!" he shouted.

Yi Ke'er didn't hesitate. She leaped from the spring, still wrapped in her towel, and dove through the passenger door, landing in his lap. Her wet skin pressed against his bare chest. She grabbed the steering wheel, her knuckles white.

"Let me drive!" she snapped. "I know these roads better."

Before he could argue, she twisted the wheel and stomped on the accelerator. The car lurched forward. Jeong-seok's hands were free now, so he reached for the seatbelt and buckled both of them together, securing her against him. The towel slipped, exposing more of her skin, but neither cared.

The assassins' car roared behind them, tires squealing.

Yi Ke'er took a sharp turn, then another. They hit a speed bump—a big one. The car jolted violently. Jeong-seok's hands, which had been gripping the seat, flew forward and landed squarely on her chest, cupping her massive breasts.

"Let go!" she yelled. "Don't touch me!"

He tried to pull his hands away, but the next bump knocked him forward again. This time, his hips pressed against hers. He felt his cock, already half-hard from the adrenaline and her proximity, brush against the damp fabric of the towel. Then it slipped past the edge, sliding against her bare sex.

She gasped. "What are you... you're..."

He couldn't control it. His erection grew, swelling between her thighs. The angle was impossible. As the car bounced over another rut, the tip of his cock pushed into her. She was wet from the hot spring, and the entry was smooth, startling.

"Ah... unnn..." A soft moan escaped her lips. She tried to focus on driving, but the feeling was overwhelming. "Ah... oh... uhn..."

Another speed bump.

"Ah!" She cried out louder, the impact driving him deeper.

They turned a corner and found themselves at the top of a long staircase—hundreds of stone steps descending into the lower district. Yi Ke'er's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"

"There's no other way!" Jeong-seok shouted. "Go!"

She gritted her teeth and sent the car bouncing down the stairs. The shocks screamed. Every single step sent a jolt through the chassis, and with each jolt, his cock drove deeper into her. She couldn't help it—her body responded. Her hips began to move in rhythm with the impacts, her moans turning into a steady stream of pleasure.

"Oh! Oh! Ah! Unn!"

Her towel fell away. Her breasts bounced freely, huge and slick. Jeong-seok gripped her waist, his own control fraying. The staircase seemed endless. For ten minutes, the car slammed down step after step, their bodies locked together in a brutal, involuntary rhythm.

Then, finally, the car hit the bottom. The road flattened. Behind them, the assassins had stopped at the top, unable to follow. They were safe.

Yi Ke'er pulled over into a barren lot, her chest heaving. She tried to climb off him, to pull away, but he held her tight.

"Don't," he growled. "I can't stop now. I'm going to come inside you."

"No!" she shouted. "Don't you dare—"

But he did. With a deep grunt, he erupted, a thick torrent of semen flooding into her. The release lasted an eternity, three full minutes, his hips jerking with each pulse. She trembled against him, her body convulsing, her protests dissolving into helpless little whimpers.

When it was finally over, they sat in silence, breathing hard. The steam from the hot spring still clung to their skin. The assassins were gone. The folder lay forgotten on the back seat.

Yi Ke'er closed her eyes and whispered, "You are the worst."