黑帮三三

The salty wind swept across the pier, carrying the cries of gulls and the low rumble of engines from a cargo ship cutting through the gray waters of Heijin Island. On the dock, Park Dae-geun stood with his hands clasped behind his back, flanked by two of his most trusted men. At a hundred fifty-five centimeters, he was short, but his body was thick with muscle, the product of years of street fights and manual labor. His face was plain, almost ugly, with a bulbous nose and a thin scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He wore a cheap black suit that strained at the shoulders, and his eyes were fixed on the approaching vessel.

The ship was a modest Chinese freighter, rust-streaked and weathered, but the flag on the mast—the coiled green dragon of the Qinglong Gang—made it clear that this was no ordinary cargo run. As the gangplank lowered with a metallic groan, two figures stepped into the light. The first was a woman who commanded attention without trying. Yi Mei'er was tall, a full hundred seventy-five centimeters, with cascading wavy brown hair that caught the afternoon sun. She wore a simple white linen dress that did nothing to hide the generous curve of her breasts, the narrow waist, and the wide, shapely hips that swayed with each step. Her face was beautiful in a warm, motherly way, with large eyes that held a soft, knowing gaze. She was the eldest daughter of the Qinglong Gang's boss, raised to take over the largest criminal organization on the island.

Beside her walked Li Qing, the eldest son of the Xuanwu Gang's boss. He was shorter than her by a good five centimeters, with a lean, almost frail frame. His nickname was Gui Yi—Turtle One—a name he'd earned for his patient, steady nature rather than any physical prowess. Despite the disparity in their statures, he walked close to her, his hand lightly touching the small of her back. They were engaged, a political union between two powerful Chinese gangs that had been allies for nearly a century. But there was genuine affection between them, a bond forged in childhood.

Park Dae-geun strode forward, his footsteps heavy on the weathered planks. "Welcome, First Miss Yi, First Master Li," he said, bowing his head respectfully. His voice was a low gravel, the kind that came from years of shouting orders in smoky rooms. "I have reserved a seaside inn for your stay. Please, allow me to escort you."

Yi Mei'er inclined her head gracefully. "Thank you, Leader Park. We appreciate your hospitality."

Li Qing nodded, his eyes scanning the dock, the warehouses, the distant skyline of Yedong City. "Nice place you have here. We've never had a chance to see it ourselves."

Park Dae-geun gestured toward a black sedan idling at the edge of the pier. "The city has its charms, though it's not as grand as the mainland. Still, we take pride in what we have."

They walked together, the three of them, followed by a discreet escort of Park's men. The sedan was spacious inside, leather seats that smelled of cheap air freshener and cigarette smoke. As the car pulled away from the docks, Park Dae-geun cleared his throat.

"I will speak plainly, if you permit," he began, his hands resting on his knees. "The Daimon Family has long been a modest but respected presence on this island. We manage our territory, we keep the peace, we pay our respects to the larger powers. But recently, we've had a problem."

Yi Mei'er turned her head toward him, her expression calm and attentive. "The Chikuzu Group?"

Park nodded grimly. "They came three years ago, claiming they could offer services we couldn't. They undercut our operations, threatened our suppliers, and when my father refused their offer of 'partnership,' they had him attacked. He's still recovering. The doctor says he may never walk properly again."

Li Qing leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "We've heard rumors. But they're still a small operation, aren't they? The Qinglong and Xuanwu gangs have been on this island long before they arrived."

"Small, yes," Park said, his voice tightening. "But they have backing from the mainland Japanese syndicates. And they're patient. They've been infiltrating the underground commerce here—drugs, weapons, human trafficking. They want to push the Daimon Family out entirely, and then they'll turn their sights on the larger powers. I propose we form an alliance. The three of us, against the Chikuzu."

Yi Mei'er was silent for a moment, her fingers absently smoothing the hem of her dress. "We have observed their movements," she said slowly. "They are indeed ambitious. But my father would not want to act rashly. We need to gather more intelligence before we commit to open confrontation."

Park's face fell slightly. "I understand your caution, Miss Yi. But time is not on our side. Every day they grow stronger."

Li Qing reached out and placed a hand on Park's shoulder. "Brother, I get your pain. I get that you're fighting for your family's legacy. But the Qinglong Gang is still the biggest power on this island. Those Chikuzu punks can't do much in a month or two. How about this: let's take a few days to see the city. Show us around. We've never stepped foot on this island as leaders—usually our men handle things here. It's a chance for us to relax, enjoy the sea breeze. Then we'll talk business."

Park Dae-geun stared at him for a long moment, then let out a rough sigh. "You're right. I've been too tense. Let's go to the Qinglong and Xuanwu branch offices first, pay respects, let your people know you're here."

The sedan wound through the narrow streets of Yedong City, past neon-lit shops and shabby apartment blocks, until they reached the commercial district where both gangs maintained discreet headquarters. The visits were brief—handshakes, introductions, a few words of encouragement to the local captains. Then Park drove them to the coast.

The seaside inn was a modest two-story structure painted white, with blue trim and a small balcony overlooking the waves. It was not the Glasses Five-Star Hotel Park had originally intended, but he explained that the hotel was under renovation and would reopen soon. "When it does, I will welcome you both as proper hosts," he said, bowing as they stepped out.

"Thank you for everything, Leader Park," Yi Mei'er said.

"Take your rest. I'll come by tomorrow to see if there's anything you need." Park got back into the sedan and drove off, leaving the two of them alone.

Inside the room, the furnishings were simple but clean: a queen-sized bed covered with a floral duvet, a wooden wardrobe, a small table with a lamp. Li Qing flopped onto the bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television to a local news channel. The anchor spoke in rapid Korean, but he didn't bother following the words.

Yi Mei'er disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room. Minutes later, the door opened, and she emerged wearing a black lace babydoll that left little to the imagination. The fabric clung to her curves, highlighting the generous swell of her breasts and the shadowed valley between. She walked across the room with an easy, sensual grace, her wet hair slicked back, droplets of water trailing down her neck.

She climbed onto the bed, stretching her long body beside Li Qing, her arms reaching above her head. "You know," she murmured, her voice low and playful, "I've been thinking about you all day. The way you stood on that deck, looking so serious and handsome."

Li Qing turned off the TV, his eyes tracing the lines of her body. He smiled, a little embarrassed. "I was thinking about you too."

She rolled onto her side and traced a finger down his chest. "Then show me."

He kissed her, slowly at first, then with more urgency. His hands moved over her lace-covered hips, her thighs. She reached down and unfastened his pants, revealing his erection, small even at full arousal—eight centimeters at most. Yi Mei'er's hand closed around it gently, her thumb stroking the tip. She had never known any other man, had never wondered if there was anything to compare. To her, this was simply him.

She lowered her head and took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down the length of him, her tongue swirling. Li Qing gasped, his hands tangling in her wet hair, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Ah... that's... that's good..."

After a minute, she rose and straddled him, her thighs pressed against his hips. She positioned herself and slowly sank down, enveloping him inside the warm, slick folds of her body. Her breasts swayed as she began to move, her hips rocking back and forth. Even at his fullest, he could not reach her deepest places, but she didn't mind. She loved the feeling of him inside her, the way he gasped her name, the tenderness in his eyes.

Five minutes passed. He climaxed with a shudder, a thin, nearly odorless emission, and collapsed against the pillows, trembling. "Oh... oh, I need to rest for half a month after that," he breathed.

Yi Mei'er leaned down and kissed his forehead, her hair falling around them like a curtain. "You did well," she whispered. She lay beside him, her arm draped across his chest, her face nestled in the crook of his neck. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, the sound of the waves rolling in through the open window.

They were truly a pair, childhood sweethearts, bound not just by obligation but by the quiet, steadfast love that had grown over the years. And as the night deepened over Yedong City, the looming shadow of the Chikuzu Group seemed, for a few peaceful hours, very far away.

After escaping the relentless pursuit, both vessels were running dangerously low on fuel. Pu Dagen’s small, battered fishing boat was almost on fumes, its engine coughing and sputtering. Yi Mier’s luxury yacht, though also low, still had enough power to maneuver. She hooked a towline to Pu Dagen’s boat, dragging it behind her own as they limped across the open sea, directionless and exhausted.

Pu Dagen scanned the horizon through his binoculars, squinting against the afternoon glare. A dark smudge appeared in the distance, growing clearer as they approached. It was a small, uninhabited island, rugged and wild, surrounded by jagged rocks and dense vegetation. He recognized it from old charts as Sea Snake Island, a desolate speck far removed from Black Gold Island’s busy waters.

He grabbed the marine radio. “Captain Yi, do you see it? That island ahead. Should we head for it? Our fuel is almost gone.”

Yi Mier’s voice crackled back, weary but decisive. “We don’t have much choice. There’s a natural harbor on the south side. We’ll anchor there, rest, and wait for Li Qing to bring help.”

The two boats limped into the sheltered cove as the sun dipped lower. The harbor was calm, its water a deep, clear turquoise. Yi Mier cut the engine and let the yacht drift beside Pu Dagen’s boat, the towline slackening. She tied them together, the massive white yacht dwarfing the tiny, rust-streaked trawler. They floated side by side, an odd pair clinging to each other in the quiet sanctuary.

Yi Mier dialed her encrypted communicator. “Li Qing, we’ve reached an island, Sea Snake Island. We’ve anchored for now. When can you get to us?”

Li Qing’s voice came through, strained with frustration. “I’m afraid it won’t be for a while. The Chikuzu gang sent their thugs to block the fueling points. The Martial Alliance headquarters has to dispatch a large ship, and that’ll take about three days. But there’s good news—I heard the Daimon group sabotaged the Chikuzu boats, so they can’t attack from the sea anymore. How are you two holding up?”

Yi Mier let out a slow breath. “We’re safe for now. Just hurry when you can.” She ended the call without waiting for a reply.

The island was silent except for the gentle lap of waves and the calls of seabirds. Pu Dagen and Yi Mier stepped onto the beach, the sand soft under their feet. She had changed into a simple white blouse and a black skirt, the only clean clothes she had left. Together, they started exploring.

A narrow path led inland, but it was overgrown with tall, coarse grass that had been left untended for years. They pushed through it, eventually discovering a small, dilapidated shack. The door hung on one hinge, and the windows were dark with grime. Inside, dust covered a broken table and a few rusted tools. It was clear no one had lived here for a long time. They were utterly alone.

As night fell, they gathered driftwood and built a campfire on the beach. The flames crackled and cast dancing shadows on the sand. Yi Mier stared into the fire, her voice quiet. “Why did you come to save me? You could have gone with Li Qing. You didn’t have to risk your life for me.”

Pu Dagen looked at her, his face serious in the firelight. “I guessed the Chikuzu wanted you dead to weaken the Dragon Gang. I know those bastards too well. I had to protect you. And honestly, I have feelings for you, Yi Mier. Strong ones.”

Before he could finish, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was sudden, desperate, and deep. It lingered, growing more fervent, more urgent. Their mouths opened, tongues meeting in a heated dance. She pulled away only to breathe, her eyes searching his.

“I’ve always held myself together for the gang,” she said, her voice trembling. “Li Qing has loved me since we were kids. I’ve protected him, cared for him. He sees me as a lover, but I’ve always thought of him like a little brother. I know I should marry him—it’s for the alliance between the Dragon Gang and the Martial Alliance. But you… you’re the only one who’s ever risked everything to protect me, just as I am. I think I might… have some feelings for you. But I suppress them. I—”

He cut her off gently. “Do you know what I love about you? Even if you marry Li Qing, I don’t care. I just want you to have a place in your heart for me—for the gang, for Li Qing, but also for me. Love me, and I’ll be satisfied. I love you, Dragon Lady Boss. I love you, Yi Mier.”

Her hesitation melted. She stood, her hands pulling off her blouse, then her skirt, until she stood naked before him, her full breasts exposed in the firelight. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the derelict shack, looking over her shoulder with a challenge in her eyes. “If you truly love me, show me a man’s resolve. Follow me.”

Pu Dagen rose, his arousal already straining against his pants. He followed her into the darkness of the shack. Inside, the night air was thick with tension. Seconds later, the sound of heavy breathing and primal cries echoed through the crumbling walls.

He grabbed her hips from behind, driving into her with fierce, relentless thrusts. She turned her head, a smile on her lips, and kissed him. His hands found her breasts, gripping them with possessive strength. One of her arms reached back to wrap around his neck, while her other hand spread her own buttocks to accommodate his size.

Eventually, he spent himself inside her, a thick, hot flood that made her tremble and moan uncontrollably. It seemed to last forever, three full minutes of pulsing release. Then she knelt before him, a lustful grin on her face, and took him in her mouth, her devotion clear in every movement. He was hard again instantly, ready for a second round.

They did not stop. An hour later, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his small fishing boat. She kissed his face repeatedly, her affection genuine and warm. The little boat rocked on the gentle swells as the moon rose, Yi Mier’s cries of pleasure mingling with the lapping waves. They made love through the night, into the early morning, until exhaustion finally claimed them.

At ten in the morning, Pu Dagen woke in his cramped cabin on the fishing boat. The sun was high, the cabin bright. Yi Mier was there, having brought food from her yacht. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, her voice soft and playful. “Sun’s burning your lazy butt, sleepyhead.” She smiled, warm and tender, as the new day began.

The radio crackled to life. Li Qing’s voice came through, tinny but clear. “Yi Mei’er, listen to me. My ship needs a bit of paperwork before we can set sail. Can you wait another five days?”

Yi Mei’er’s mouth was full. She had been crouched on the cushioned bench of her yacht, her lips wrapped around Park Dagen’s stiff cock, her tongue swirling as she bobbed her head. She pulled her lips away just enough to breathe, but the radio pressed against her ear. “Mm—mm—bwu—hao ah,” she managed, the words garbled by saliva and the lingering heat of him.

Li Qing’s voice sharpened with confusion. “Uh! What are you eating?”

Yi Mei’er froze, her mind snapping back to reality. She was still crouched over Park Dagen, his hand tangled in her hair, his breath ragged. She scrambled for a lie, releasing him with a wet pop. “Ah, it’s like this—I’m eating a popsicle on my yacht. I can’t stop, it’ll melt. I’ll just eat and talk.”

Li Qing’s tone softened. “Oh, I see.”

She could almost hear him nodding on the other end. She sucked a breath, then pressed her lips back to Park Dagen’s length, bobbing as she spoke. “Mm—en—ci liu—mm—so big—ah, right, the supplies are big. I mean, the supplies are big enough.”

“Are you stocked?” Li Qing asked, oblivious.

She worked faster, her cheeks hollowing, the salty taste of him coating her tongue. “Mm—yes—uh—big—the supplies are big. Enough.” She closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm, on keeping her voice steady as she swallowed around him.

They talked for minutes more. She learned about his crew, his delays, his worries. She answered with half words and wet sounds, her entire body focused on the man between her thighs. Finally, Li Qing seemed satisfied. “Alright, I’ll trust you. We’ll sort it out.”

The radio went silent.

Yi Mei’er dropped the handset and threw herself back onto the cushions, gasping. Park Dagen laughed, pulling her close. “That was close.”

She slapped his chest playfully. “You owe me.”

On the deserted island, they spent the days exploring. The sand was warm, the water crystal clear. Park Dagen sat on the beach, cracking a coconut with a rock, drinking the milk straight from the shell. Yi Mei’er lay beside him, her head propped on his thigh. He took another sip, then leaned down to latch his mouth onto her nipple, his tongue flicking the pink peak. She gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured.

He looked up, milk dripping from his chin. “And you love it.”

She did. She had fallen for him—hard, fast, completely. She let him do as he pleased. Her hand slid down his stomach, wrapping around his hardness, stroking slowly. They made love in the sand, their bodies glistening with salt and sweat. Later, on the bow of her yacht, they were tangled in the spray as the sun set. At night, they kissed under the stars, their mouths fused, tongues dancing. They shared a shower, the warm water streaming over them, his hands never leaving her skin.

“You’re impossible,” she whined, her voice soft. “You never stop.”

He grinned, his hand cupping her ass as water ran down her back. “Why would I?”

A few days later, Yi Mei’er changed into a white one-piece bikini. The fabric hugged her curves, the cut high on her hips. She walked to Park Dagen, striking a pose. “How do I look? Do you like it?”

He dropped the coconut he was holding and crossed the sand in three steps. Without a word, he scooped her up in a princess carry. She screamed with laughter, her legs kicking as he carried her toward the water. “Park Dagen! Put me down!”

“Never,” he said, and kissed her.

They were inseparable. Their hands were always on each other, their mouths always searching. It was as if they had forgotten the world beyond the island.

Then, on the fifth day, Li Qing arrived with a fuel ship. The moment anchor dropped, Yi Mei’er and Park Dagen put on masks of casual friendship. They greeted Li Qing on the shore, their faces bright, their postures relaxed.

Yi Mei’er approached her fiancé and kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Park Dagen clapped Li Qing’s shoulder. “I thought I’d turn into a caveman, Li brother. Thank God you came. We can finally go home.”

Li Qing laughed, oblivious. The three stood in a comfortable circle, no one guessing the truth.

A month later, Li Qing and Yi Mei’er were married. The ceremony was grand, a union of the Green Dragon Gang and the Black Tortoise Gang, sealing a generational bond. Yi Mei’er wore a flowing white wedding gown, her hair piled high, pearls at her neck. Park Dagen approached her at the reception, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice low. “And you look beautiful.”

She smiled, her eyes holding his for a moment too long. “Thank you.”

The party faded. The cake was cut, the champagne drunk. By nightfall, Li Qing should have taken her home as her husband, but business called. A matter at the Black Tortoise branch needed his immediate attention. He turned to Park Dagen. “Can you drive her home? I trust no one else.”

Park Dagen nodded. “Of course, brother. No problem.”

The car was a sleek black sedan. Yi Mei’er sat in the back, her wedding dress spread across the leather seat, her veil still in place. Park Dagen drove through the city, then onto a desolate stretch of road. The lights of the suburbs faded. The scenery turned to tall reeds and wild grass.

Yi Mei’er watched the road in the rearview mirror. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. He pulled the steering wheel sharply, turning onto a dirt track that led into a dense patch of reeds. The car bumped and rocked until they were hidden from the road. He killed the engine.

The silence was thick, broken only by the chirp of insects.

Park Dagen turned around. “You look incredible in that dress.”

She smiled, her heart racing. “Do you like it?”

He climbed into the back seat, his body pressing hers against the door. “I love it.” His mouth found hers, hot and hungry. The car began to rock, the suspension groaning as they made love for an hour, her gown bunched around her waist, his hands twisted in the veil.

When it was over, they straightened their clothes and drove home in silence. No one spoke. No one would ever speak.

Days later, Yi Mei’er and Li Qing sat in a café, sipping coffee and laughing. They looked like a perfect couple, fingers intertwined, smiles bright. The secret was buried deep, a private vault locked inside Yi Mei’er’s chest.

One evening, Yi Mei’er dressed in a red gown with a slit that ran up to her hip. The fabric barely contained her cleavage, the curve of her breasts visible beneath the plunging neckline. She wore black lace stockings held by tiny suspenders, her hair loose and flowing. Li Qing looked up from his book. “Dressed so formally. Where are you going?”

“Oh,” she said, applying lipstick at the mirror. “The Great Gang is having their 40th anniversary celebration today. I was invited.”

Li Qing nodded, trust in his eyes. “Alright. Be careful.”

She kissed his forehead and left.

Downstairs, at the secret lounge of the Wagram Five-Star Hotel, Park Dagen waited. The moment she stepped through the door, he took her in his arms, his hands sliding up her thighs, feeling the lace. They kissed deeply, a union of fire and hunger. In the sprawling suite, they made love for five endless hours.

“Uh,” she moaned, her nails digging into his back. “Stay with me a little longer.”

He pinned her wrists above her head. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

Her eyes flashed with excitement. “That’s more like it.”

The phone rang. She reached for it, her voice shifting instantly from breathy passion to cool authority. “Hello? Ah, Second Sister, it’s you. What’s wrong? No one picked you up at the dock?”

Park Dagen pressed his lips to her shoulder, murmuring against her skin. “I can send my younger brother, Park Jingshuo, to pick her up. What’s her name?”

She covered the receiver. “Yi Ke’er.”

He dialed a quick number, issued orders to his brother, then turned back to Yi Mei’er. He pulled the phone from her hand and tossed it aside. “Business is over.”

They dove back into each other.

Park Jingshuo knew nothing. He drove to the dock, picked up Yi Ke’er, a young woman with sharp eyes and a suspicious nature. They exchanged pleasantries, never guessing that their siblings were tangled in sheets at the hotel.

That night, the affair between Yi Mei’er and Park Dagen was a secret locked tight. No one in the Li family or the Park family would ever know.

And so, for now, the story of Yi Mei’er and Park Dagen paused.

The next chapter would follow Yi Ke’er, Li Tian, and Park Jingshuo—though that was for another time.

The salty breeze off the harbor carried the smell of fish and diesel as Park Jingseok pulled his black sedan to a stop near the pier. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, flexing his thick fingers on the steering wheel. At twenty-eight, he was a block of muscle packed into a body only 158 centimeters tall—a walking fire hydrant of bone and gristle. His face was nothing special, a bit rough around the edges, with a jaw that seemed to have been chiseled without much care. But none of that mattered. In the Dae-mun Gang, he was the second-in-command, brother to Park Daegeun, the acting boss.

His phone buzzed. One of his younger soldiers.

“Jingseok hyung-nim, I found you a real treasure. A prostitute. Beautiful. Want her tonight?”

Jingseok grunted. “No time. I’m at the dock. Picking up someone.”

“Ah, that’s lucky. She’s at the dock too. Just take a look. Check the goods.”

Jingseok paused. The ferry from the mainland wasn’t due for another half hour. *Maybe I can spare five minutes.* He grinned to himself, a wolfish smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. *If she’s pretty, I’ll send her to the villa. She can wait in my bed until I finish the business. Then…* He licked his lips. “Alright. Where is she?”

“Near the customs shed. Tall girl. Can’t miss her.”

Jingseok climbed out of the car, straightened his leather jacket, and walked toward the waterfront. The afternoon sun glinted off the gray water, seagulls squabbling over scraps near a fishing boat. Then he saw her.

A woman stood by the railing, watching the horizon. She was tall—at least 176 centimeters—with black hair that fell straight and glossy past her shoulders. Her face was sharp, refined, with eyes that seemed to cut through the air. Focused. Intelligent. Dangerous. Her body was a weapon of curves: full breasts straining against a high-slit black cheongsam, the fabric so tight it looked ready to burst. The dress cut low at the chest, showing the deep valley between her heavy breasts. A long leg, sheathed in black silk, emerged from the slit. She was a masterpiece of flesh and elegance.

*This is the whore?* Jingseok’s heart hammered. *That kid has taste.* He approached, savoring the view.

She turned. Her gaze met his—steady, cold, and utterly unimpressed. But Jingseok saw only the prize.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “I—”

He raised a finger and pressed it gently against her lips. The touch was electric. “Shh. I know you’re waiting for me. And I’ve been waiting for you. But tonight, I have a job first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brass key. “This is the address of the Dae-mun Gang’s Second Division headquarters. It’s really just my private villa. Go in, make yourself at home. Take a shower if you want. I’ll be there after I finish the pickup.”

Before she could respond, he tucked the key into the small handbag slung over her shoulder. Then his arm snaked around her shoulder, pulling her close. The heat of her body against his was intoxicating. His hand slid down, cupping her full breast through the silk of her cheongsam. He squeezed. She felt like heaven.

Her eyes narrowed. A cold fury flickered there, sharp as a blade. She didn’t flinch.

Jingseok’s grin widened. *Feisty. I like it.*

Then her hand moved. Faster than he could register, she grabbed his wrist and twisted. A sickening crack—his shoulder joint popped out of socket. Pain lanced through his arm. He stumbled, crumpling to his knees, howling.

“Aaaah! That hurts! Okay, okay, even if you won’t service me, you don’t have to break my arm!”

She stood over him, her expression frosty. “I am Yi Ke’er, second-in-command of the Qinglong Gang. Do you know how many men have touched me without permission? None. Until now. I should leave you with a permanent reminder.”

Jingseok’s eyes went wide. The pieces clicked into place. *Yi Ke’er. Sister of Yi Meier. The woman my hyung told me to pick up.* He forced a pained laugh. “Ah… I see now. I thought you were someone else. Please, let me go. I’m Park Jingseok of the Dae-mun Gang. Brother of Park Daegeun. I came in good faith to welcome you.”

She released his wrist. He scrambled to his feet, straightening his jacket, trying to salvage dignity. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I’m actually a respectable man.”

A commotion sounded behind him. His younger soldier came jogging up, towing a heavily made-up woman in a cheap dress—brassy hair, gaudy jewelry, a cloud of thick perfume.

“Hyung-nim! Sorry I’m late. She got lost, but I brought her here personally. Look at this beauty, isn’t she fine? Want me to take her to the villa for you?”

Jingseok’s face burned. He wanted to crawl into a hole. He covered his eyes with his palm, not daring to look at Yi Ke’er.

Yi Ke’er let out a soft, knowing laugh. “So. A ‘respectable man,’ you say?” She walked past him, opened the passenger door of his sedan, and slid in. Through the open window, she added, “Let’s go. Take me to the seaside villa that the Qinglong Gang arranged for me.”

Jingseok ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and shot the soldier a glare that could strip paint. The man shrank back, realizing his mistake.

As the car pulled away from the dock, Jingseok kept apologizing, his words tumbling out in a nervous stream. “It was a genuine error. I never meant to disrespect the Qinglong Gang. Please don’t let this affect our relations. My brother will hear of my mistake.”

Yi Ke’er stared out the window at the glittering sea. She said nothing, but a small smile played at the corner of her lips—the smile of a predator who had tasted blood and found it amusing.

Three days later, Park Jingseok walked up the gravel path to the second branch of the Xuanwu Gang on the island. The building was a squat, two-story concrete structure with bars on the windows and a rusted iron gate. He buzzed the intercom, and a moment later the door swung open to reveal Li Tian, the second son of the second brother of Li Qing—one of the many sons of the previous Xuanwu Gang boss.

Li Tian was twenty-seven, Chinese, stood a hundred and seventy centimeters tall, and had a wiry build that looked more office clerk than gang lieutenant. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a simple gray sweater over slacks. He smiled and extended a hand.

“Park Jingseok,” Li Tian said. “What brings you here?”

Park Jingseok shook his hand firmly. “Li Tian, Second-in-Command, you’ve only been on the island a week. How are you settling in? Looks like you and I are alike—both stuck manning a branch office alone.”

Li Tian’s smile widened. “Ah, you’re wrong there. It’s two now. My fiancée showed up, you know.”

Park Jingseok raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who’s the lucky woman who won the heart of Xuanwu Gang’s number two?”

Before Li Tian could answer, footsteps sounded on the stairs. A woman in a tight-fitting office suit descended, her face bright with an adorable smile. She held a small gray cat in her arms.

“Honey,” she called out, “look what I found. Isn’t she cute?”

Park Jingseok’s blood ran cold. It was Yi Ke’er.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted. The sweetness drained away, replaced by the cool, haughty mask of a businesswoman. She set the cat down and crossed her arms.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping with false politeness. “If it isn’t Park Jingseok, second-in-command of the Damun Gang.”

Li Tian blinked, looking between them. “You two know each other?”

Yi Ke’er gave a sly smile. “I was just about to say, honey, you don’t need to take me to the Damun Gang’s second branch. I already know where it is, thanks to certain… circumstances. Isn’t that right, Mr. Park?”

Park Jingseok pretended to examine a crack in the wall, then the ceiling, then the floor. His face flushed with embarrassment and irritation.

Li Tian furrowed his brow. “What’s going on? Did something happen between you?”

“Nothing,” Yi Ke’er said lightly. “Just a small, insignificant matter. Nothing to worry about.”

Li Tian studied her for a moment, then shrugged. If she said it was nothing, he trusted her.

Park Jingseok turned and walked out the door without another word. As he reached the gate, he glanced back, stuck out his tongue, and made a raspberry sound.

“Stupid woman,” he muttered.

Yi Ke’er’s eyes narrowed. She let out an exasperated sigh, then a defiant huff. Li Tian watched Park Jingseok’s retreating figure and shook his head slowly.

“Looks like you two don’t get along,” he said.

“Let’s go inside,” Yi Ke’er replied, taking his hand.

Back in their bedroom, Yi Ke’er became a different person. She wrapped her arms around Li Tian’s neck and pressed her lips to his, soft and insistent. Her hands slid down his waist to his belt buckle. She worked quickly, pulling his pants down, kneeling, and taking him into her mouth.

His erection came quickly—barely nine centimeters when fully hard. She didn’t mind. She pushed her full breasts against him, burying his length entirely in her cleavage. The sight of her pale skin swallowing him made her moan.

They moved to the bed. Yi Ke’er rode him with wild abandon, her body rocking and swaying. Li Tian lasted barely six minutes before he climaxed. His release was thin, weak, and barely reached inside her. She felt the faint warmth and knew that making her pregnant would take many, many tries. He was simply not built for it.

Afterward, he collapsed beside her, drained and trembling. He lay still for a long moment, his breathing shallow.

Yi Ke’er stroked his cheek. “You did well, honey. Next time, you’ll do even better.”

She leaned down and kissed his cheek with genuine affection.

Two days later, Yi Ke’er stood at the gate of Park Jingseok’s second branch villa. She pressed the doorbell. When Park Jingseok opened the door, his face soured instantly.

“Well, well,” he said through gritted teeth, “what wind blew you over here? It’s not a good wind. Not good at all.”

Yi Ke’er remained calm, her posture relaxed. “I just wanted to see what kind of savage den the Damun Gang’s second-in-command calls home.”

“Where’s your fiancé? Li Tian?” Park Jingseok demanded.

“He had business,” she said smoothly. “I’m just taking a look around, then I’ll leave.”

“Excuse me,” Park Jingseok muttered. “I need the restroom.”

In the bathroom, he locked the door and pulled out his phone. He dialed his older brother, Park Dagen.

“Hyung,” he hissed, “what the hell were you thinking? I’ve got a troublesome woman on my hands now, you know that?”

On the other end, Park Dagen was deep in the middle of having his massive erection serviced by Yi Mei’er. Her mouth worked over his length, and he groaned into the phone.

“Ahh… comfortable. Brother, don’t take it so hard. Treat it as a test of your patience. By the authority of your older brother, I command you to control your temper. Ooh… oooh…”

Park Jingseok frowned. “Why are you making weird sounds?”

“Uh… just my daily muscle-training noises,” Park Dagen lied. “Ooh… ohh… I’m busy now. I’ll hang up.”

He cut the call. Park Jingseok stared at the screen for a second, then shrugged. “Some weird habit he’s picked up,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, Yi Ke’er was on her phone, calling her older sister, Yi Mei’er.

“Hello, dear sister,” Yi Ke’er said cheerfully. “How are you and Brother Li Qing doing? Congratulations on the wedding. I ran into Park Jingseok the other day. That man infuriates me. He did something bad to me. I hate him. He’s disgusting.”

On the other end, Yi Mei’er was in the middle of deep-throating Park Dagen’s enormous shaft. She pulled off with a wet pop.

“Mmm… mm… ah. Dear sister, you’re an adult now. You should know how to judge a person, not just from one side… mm… so big!”

Yi Ke’er blinked. “What’s so big?”

Yi Mei’er improvised quickly. “Nothing. I’m eating a popsicle. It’s a little… mmm… pop… big! Really big, this popsicle!”

Yi Ke’er nodded, accepting the explanation. “Alright. I’ll talk to you later, sis.”

She hung up and wandered back into the living room, just as Park Jingseok emerged from the bathroom. Their eyes met, and both sighed in mutual irritation.

Yiko Er continued her tour of Park Jingseok's villa, moving from room to room with a casual curiosity that bordered on boredom. She had expected something more impressive from the second-in-command of the Big Gate gang—perhaps a study lined with leather-bound books, or a living room with minimalist decor and high-end electronics. Instead, she found a house that looked like it had been furnished by someone with more money than taste, and maintained by someone with even less time.

When she pushed open the door to Park Jingseok's bedroom, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The room was a disaster. Clothes were strewn across the floor in haphazard piles. Empty instant noodle cups sat on the nightstand, some with chopsticks still sticking out. The bedsheets were twisted into a knot at the foot of the mattress, revealing a bare, stained pillow and a mattress pad that had seen better days. Books and papers covered every flat surface including the floor, stacked in precarious towers that looked ready to topple at the slightest breeze. A single sock hung from the lampshade.

Yiko Er's lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts amusement and disbelief. She turned to face Park Jingseok, who was standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at the disaster zone behind him.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You're one of those men who believe that cleaning is a woman's job, right? That's why you don't bother."

Park Jingseok opened his mouth to protest, but Yiko Er had already moved into the room. She picked up a dirty shirt from the floor with two fingers, holding it at arm's length as if it were radioactive.

"Or maybe you just don't know how to clean," she continued, dropping the shirt into a laundry basket she found buried under another pile of clothes. "I'm leaning toward the latter. A grown man who can't even pick up after himself. That's truly pathetic."

"Hey, I've been busy—"

"Busy doing what? Stacking instant noodle cups into modern art?" Yiko Er cut him off, shaking her head as she began to work. She grabbed a trash bag from under the sink in the adjacent bathroom and started clearing away the most obvious garbage. "I'll do this once. Just this once. After this, you're on your own. There won't be a second time."

She tossed a handful of crumpled receipts into the bag. "Honestly, you should just get your girlfriend or your wife—if you had one—to do this for you. But looking at the state of this room, I doubt any woman has ever set foot in here. No wonder you had to call your underlings to arrange prostitutes for you."

Park Jingseok's face flushed. "I told you already, that was a mistake. I thought you were someone else."

Yiko Er paused her cleaning long enough to shoot him a look of exaggerated pity. "Oh, don't worry. I don't blame you at all. You're so pitiful—a lonely, single, stinky man who has no choice but to satisfy his urges with paid women. I feel sorry for you, really."

"I didn't satisfy anything," Park Jingseok muttered, crossing his arms defensively. "The prostitute thing was my first time trying, and it failed. I actually still..."

He trailed off, but Yiko Er caught his hesitation. She straightened up, the trash bag forgotten in her hand. "Still what?"

Park Jingseok's face turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his black shirt. He waved his hand dismissively, irritation creeping into his voice. "I'm still a virgin, okay! If I hadn't mistaken you for someone else, I would have already gotten rid of that title. Well? Go ahead and laugh. It's hilarious, isn't it?"

But Yiko Er didn't laugh. Instead, she studied him with a serious expression, her dark eyes unreadable. "No," she said quietly. "I won't laugh at you. Honestly, Park Jingseok-ssi, I don't think it's a bad thing for a man to remain a virgin until he finds true love. And I would never mock someone for that."

Park Jingseok blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. For a moment, he felt a grudging respect for her. *No wonder she's the second-in-command of the Blue Dragon gang*, he thought. *She has real class, real depth.*

But then Yiko Er's face split into a mischievous grin, and she added, "That being said, I don't think you have a snowball's chance in hell of ever losing your virginity within your lifetime. Laughing at a poor, pathetic creature like you would be cruel, and even I know better than that."

The respect evaporated instantly. Park Jingseok's jaw clenched as he turned away from her, dropping onto the sole clean spot on his sofa—the armrest, because the seat was covered in unfolded laundry. He sat there in sullen silence, watching her continue her cleaning with an efficiency that both impressed and irritated him.

Yiko Er moved through the room like a professional organizer, sorting, folding, and discarding with practiced ease. She paused to open the curtains, letting in the afternoon light that immediately revealed just how much dust had accumulated on the windowsill. She grabbed a cloth from the bathroom and began wiping down surfaces.

It was sometime during this process that Park Jingseok's gaze, which he had been actively trying to avoid, accidentally landed on her. She was bent over the coffee table, wiping the surface clean. Her black hair, long and straight and impossibly glossy, fell forward as she worked, framing her face in a way that made her look almost ethereal.

But it wasn't her face that held his attention.

Yiko Er was tall—176 centimeters, with the long legs and slender build of a runway model. Her outfit today was simple: a fitted white blouse tucked into high-waisted black pants. The blouse had a V-neck that dipped lower than was strictly necessary for daywear, and as she leaned forward, the fabric gaped open to reveal a glimpse of smooth, pale skin.

Park Jingseok's breath caught in his throat. The curve of her cleavage was mesmerizing, deep and pale and utterly captivating. He could see the full shape of her breasts pressing against the fabric, the way they swayed slightly as she moved. Her concentration was absolute, her focus unwavering, and there was something about the way her brow furrowed slightly as she attacked a particularly stubborn stain that made his heart race.

"Beautiful," he murmured, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it.

Yiko Er's head snapped up. "What did you say?"

Park Jingseok felt heat rush to his face. He scrambled for a plausible deflection. "Nothing. I, uh, talk to myself sometimes. Don't mind me."

Yiko Er stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she shrugged and returned to her cleaning. Park Jingseok let out a silent breath of relief, though his heart continued to pound in his chest.

Thirty minutes later, the room was transformed. The floor was visible. The bed was made. The trash was gone. The surfaces gleamed. Park Jingseok looked around in amazement, hardly recognizing his own bedroom.

Yiko Er brushed off her hands with satisfaction. "There. Clean enough for a human to live in. Try not to destroy it within the next hour." She grabbed her purse from where she had left it by the door and headed for the stairs.

Park Jingseok followed her down, stopping her at the front door. "Yiko Er-ssi," he said, his tone becoming serious. "I really hope that our misunderstanding doesn't cause any problems between the Big Gate gang and the Blue Dragon gang. My boss ordered me to maintain friendly relations with you. For the sake of both gangs' futures, I hope you can—"

Yiko Er turned, a graceful pirouette that made her hair swirl around her shoulders. She looked at him with those dark, penetrating eyes. "But what do *you* think?" she asked. "Do *you* really believe that the Big Gate and the Blue Dragon can work together? You keep talking about business and gang affairs. But I want to know about *you*. Can *you* be friendly with *me*? More importantly, do you *want* to be? I want to hear your own thoughts."

Park Jingseok fell silent. The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. He looked at her standing there—tall, confident, impossibly beautiful—and something in his chest shifted.

"To be honest," he said slowly, "I think you're very attractive. I might have a small crush on you. Would you be willing to be my—"

"Whoa! Whoa! Stop right there!" Yiko Er's eyes went wide, and she held up both hands as if to physically block his words. "I think you've misunderstood something here. I came to your house today just to be polite, to show the Blue Dragon's goodwill. I don't have any romantic feelings toward you."

"That's okay," Park Jingseok said quickly, the words tumbling out of him. "I can wait. I can wait until you're ready to accept me."

"That's even more impossible," Yiko Er said flatly. "Don't wait. You know why. I'm already spoken for. I have a fiancé. I'm a flower that's already been picked." She paused, staring at him with incredulity. "I thought you knew. My fiancé is Li Tian. He used to hang out with you all the time. You two were close friends. Oh my god—he never told you, did he?"

The blood drained from Park Jingseok's face. He felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Li Tian. *Li Tian*. His old drinking buddy, his confidant, the man he had shared countless late nights with, swapping stories and complaining about work and life. Li Tian was engaged to Yiko Er? Li Tian, who had never once mentioned having a girlfriend, let alone a fiancée?

"I was just about to confess my feelings to my brother's woman," Park Jingseok muttered, his voice hollow. "I was about to ask her to come up to my room with me, maybe have sex, maybe have ten kids or something..."

The words slipped out without his permission, broadcasting his most private, shameful thoughts directly to Yiko Er's ears.

She stared at him.

The silence stretched.

Then her hand moved in a blur, and *crack*—her palm connected with his cheek with a force that sent his head snapping to the side. The red imprint of her hand bloomed across his face like a brand.

Without a word, Yiko Er turned on her heel and began to walk away, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

"Wait! I'm sorry!" Park Jingseok called after her, his voice cracking. "At least I was honest! I deserve that slap, I know!"

Yiko Er stopped. She turned her head slightly, her profile illuminated by the setting sun. "Ah, yes," she said, her voice soft but carrying easily in the quiet evening air. "Having such expectations of me—you really did deserve to be hit. But you're straightforward, at least. Do you have anything else to say?"

Park Jingseok straightened his posture. He took a deep breath, then bowed deeply from the waist. "Since you and I have no romantic destiny, I will work toward friendship between our two gangs. And also, out of my personal respect for you, Yiko Er-ssi."

Yiko Er's expression softened. A genuine smile spread across her face, and for a moment, Park Jingseok forgot how to breathe. "Then you'd better work hard to earn my respect," she said, her voice light and teasing. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, humming a cheerful tune that echoed through the quiet street.

Park Jingseok stood at his front door, one hand pressed to his still-stinging cheek, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner.

*Li Tian*, he thought bitterly. *You bastard. You never told me a thing.*

And yet, despite the sting in his pride and the ache in his cheek, he found himself smiling.

*To be continued.*

Li Tian and Park JingSuk moved through the narrow alley behind the old industrial district, their footsteps echoing against the damp concrete walls. The warehouse ahead loomed in the dim light of a dying streetlamp, its corrugated roof rusted and sagging. According to the intel Yi Ke’er had pulled from the network, the Japanese Bamboo Group had been using this location to manufacture a new synthetic drug meant for overseas distribution. If they could bust this operation, it would be a crippling blow to the organization.

“Stay sharp,” Park said, his voice low. He cracked his neck and adjusted the pistol holstered under his jacket.

Li Tian nodded, his eyes scanning the perimeter. “Ke’er, stay in the car. Keep the engine running.”

From the driver’s seat of the black sedan, Yi Ke’er gave a curt nod. “If you’re not out in twenty minutes, I’m coming in.”

“Not necessary,” Li Tian said, slamming the door.

They approached the main entrance—a large rolling door with a smaller personnel door beside it. Park picked the lock in under ten seconds, and they slipped inside. The interior was vast and hollow, filled with the smell of stale chemicals and rust. Rows of empty tables stood under flickering fluorescent lights, and overturned chairs lay scattered like fallen soldiers. The place was abandoned. Equipment had been stripped, wires hung from the ceiling like dead vines.

“Looks like they cleared out,” Park muttered, kicking a discarded gas mask.

“Maybe we were tipped off too late,” Li Tian said, walking deeper into the space. His eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he noticed a faint glint at the far end—two figures crouched behind a stack of pallets.

Before he could warn Park, a hissing sound filled the air. A thick, sweet-smelling gas sprayed from hidden nozzles in the ceiling. Li Tian’s vision swam. He tried to raise his arm to cover his mouth, but his limbs felt like lead. Beside him, Park staggered, then collapsed. Li Tian’s knees buckled, and the world faded to black.

When he came to, he was vaguely aware of rough hands forcing his mouth open. Something bitter and warm slid down his throat. A voice, smug and triumphant, said, “Two hours. Then their dicks will explode. Let’s go, the boss will be happy.”

Li Tian’s consciousness slipped away again.

Yi Ke’er had waited exactly three minutes before her instincts screamed at her. Something was wrong. She grabbed her knife and slipped out of the car, leaving the door ajar. She crept through the personnel door, her combat boots silent on the concrete. She heard voices—two men, laughing. She pressed herself against a pillar and peered around.

Li Tian and Park were lying on the floor, limp. Two thugs, one with a shaved head and the other with a scar across his cheek, stood over them. The shaved-headed one held an empty syringe. The scarred one was laughing.

“That drug will cook them from the inside,” Scar said. “Two hours, and their dicks will blow like overinflated balloons. No way to survive unless they go soft, and they won’t even wake up for four hours.”

Yi Ke’er’s blood ran cold. She moved like a shadow, crossing the distance in three silent strides. She slammed the hilt of her knife into the back of Shaved Head’s skull. He dropped without a sound. Scar spun, but she was faster—a kick to his knee, a palm strike to his throat, and he crumpled. She drove him to the ground, her knee pressed into his spine, and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Speak,” she hissed, her face inches from his ear. “What did you give them?”

“Just relax, beautiful,” Scar gasped, pain lacing his voice. “It’s a drug we found last year. Makes a man’s cock go rock hard. Won’t stop. After two hours, it’ll burst. The guy dies right then. Unless it goes soft.”

“That’s impossible,” Yi Ke’er snarled. “How did they pass out? Tell me the truth!”

“Special gas,” he choked out. “Our own blend. They’ll be out for four hours. Even if you pinch them, they won’t wake.”

Yi Ke’er’s grip tightened. “Then why are you still—?”

Scar opened his mouth and shouted, “Defense mode activated!”

A metallic whir sounded above. A section of the ceiling slid open, and a mechanical arm descended, a pistol gripped in its claw-like hand. The arm swiveled, aiming directly at Yi Ke’er. She dove sideways, rolling behind a metal drum just as the first shot rang out. The bullet sparked off the floor where she’d been.

The gun fired again, wild, seeking. Yi Ke’er stayed low, her heart pounding. She heard a wet thump and a gurgling cry. The firing stopped. She peeked out. The mechanical arm was twitching, smoke rising from its joints. Shaved Head—still unconscious on the floor—had taken a bullet to the chest. He was dead.

Scar had risen during the chaos, trying to sprint toward the exit. The malfunctioning arm jerked one last time and fired. The bullet caught Scar in the middle of his back. He pitched forward, slid on the concrete, and lay still.

Yi Ke’er rushed to Li Tian and Park. Both were breathing, but unresponsive. She checked their pulses—steady, but weak. She grabbed Li Tian under the arms and dragged him toward the door. It took her three trips to get them both into the back seat of the sedan, their bodies limp and heavy.

She floored the accelerator. The engine coughed. She glanced at the fuel gauge—close to empty. Cursing under her breath, she made a sharp turn into a small wooded area off the main road, branches scraping the car’s paint. The engine sputtered and died as she rolled to a stop under the cover of a grove of oak trees.

Silence. Then she heard it. A muffled sound from the back seat. She turned. Li Tian and Park were both on their backs, their eyes closed, but their pants were tented. Clearly. Aggressively. The drug was taking effect.

Yi Ke’er’s stomach dropped. The thug’s words replayed in her mind: “Two hours… unless it goes soft.” But they wouldn’t wake for four hours. In two hours, they’d be dead. She had no choice.

She muttered a curse, stepped out of the car, and pulled open the back door. She unbuckled Li Tian’s belt first. His trousers came down easily. His erection was far more pronounced than she’d ever seen—maybe nine centimeters, rigid and red. She moved to Park. When she pulled down his pants, she froze.

His cock was enormous. Twenty-eight centimeters at least, thick as her forearm, veins like ropes, the head dark and glistening. The smell hit her—musky, potent, overwhelming. She blinked. How could a man be built like that? The contrast between the two was almost absurd.

Taking a deep breath, Yi Ke’er gripped one in each hand. Li Tian’s pulse throbbed under her left palm. Park’s was like a steel rod. She started to stroke, rhythmically, desperately. Li Tian’s hips bucked slightly. Within three minutes, he groaned in his sleep and shot a thin stream of fluid. It hit the seat and stopped. His erection began to subside. Good. That’s one.

But Park showed no sign of stopping. She worked his shaft for ten minutes, then twenty. Forty minutes passed. Her wrist ached. His cock stayed like iron. She was running out of time. An hour and twenty minutes left.

Park started to stir. Not fully awake—his eyelids were half-lidded, his mouth slack. He was talking. Dreaming.

“Yi Ke’er… ah… you little kitten… give my dick a titty fuck…”

She slapped him. Hard. His head snapped to the side, but he didn’t wake. He just kept murmuring, lost in his hallucination. She looked at Li Tian—still out, no risk of him seeing. She looked at the clock. A little over an hour left.

She pulled off her jacket. Then her shirt. Then her bra. Her breasts were enormous, pale, full, and heavy. They swung free. She had no choice. This was the only way to get enough friction to finish him off.

She lowered herself over him. The head of his cock pressed between her breasts. She guided it, and it slid into the valley of her cleavage, pushing her flesh apart. The length was so extreme that the tip reached the level of her chin. She leaned forward, and the tip brushed her lower lip. She could smell it, the heat of it. She started to move, her breasts sliding up and down his shaft, the sound wet and soft in the quiet car.

He sat up abruptly. His eyes were open but unfocused, still dreaming.

“I asked you, Yi Ke’er kitten,” he said, his voice slurred. “Do you like my big cock? Say it!”

She wanted to scream at him, but she needed him to calm down. “Yes,” she said, her voice flat. “I like it.”

“You’re not smiling,” he said. “Smile. Kiss the tip.”

She forced a smile, her lips stretching. She dipped her head and kissed the fat head of his cock, still sliding between her breasts. He groaned.

“Suck it,” he ordered. “Suck it. I’m going to come.”

She didn’t want semen on her clothes. She opened her mouth and took him in. The taste was sharp, salty, overwhelming. He erupted—a long, thick, hot stream. It filled her mouth. She swallowed, but it was too much. She had to clamp her lips tight to keep from spilling. She chewed the viscous fluid, forcing it down. He kept coming, emptying himself into her throat. Finally, he stopped. He fell back, unconscious again.

Yi Ke’er sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She checked the time. Still within the two-hour window. She looked at Park’s cock—it was softening. She let out a shaky breath.

She dressed Park and Li Tian, then remembered the trunk. There was a spare gas can. She filled the tank, returned to the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The ride home was quiet. She drove with a blank face, her mind a storm.

Two hours later, Li Tian woke with a groan. “What… where are we?”

“Don’t move,” Yi Ke’er said. “We’re almost back. How do you feel?”

He rubbed his head. “Tired. My… my lower half feels like it was wrung dry.”

Park woke next, blinking. “My face hurts.” He touched the red mark on his cheek. “Did someone hit me?”

“You were dreaming,” Yi Ke’er said, her voice tight.

“Yeah, I had a weird dream,” Park said, rubbing his jaw. “About you, actually, Yi Ke’er.”

“Don’t try to remember it,” she snapped.

He frowned, confused. “Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

He fell silent, sensing her mood. The matter was dropped. They drove on, the engine humming, the night swallowing the road ahead.

One week later, the doorbell rang. Park Jungsuk shuffled downstairs and yanked open the front door. "Who's here at this hour?" he mumbled. Yi Ke'er stood on the doorstep, dressed in a pristine white office lady suit, a manila folder clutched to her chest. "Li Tian had to go out for a few days. He won't be back until three days from now. He asked me to deliver this document to you," she said, thrusting the folder toward him.

Jungsuk took it with one hand, but his other hand was wrapped around a large octopus he'd been prepping for a barbecue. As he reached for the folder, the octopus's beak suddenly gaped open, and a thick jet of black ink shot out, splattering across Ke'er's white outfit. Dark streaks bloomed on her blouse and skirt. She gasped and stepped back, looking down at the mess. "What the hell? Now I'm covered in this stuff! I swear, every time I run into you, something goes wrong," she snapped.

Jungsuk stammered apologies. "I'm really sorry—please, come in and take a seat on the sofa. Calm down." He gestured toward the living room, then hurried to the kitchen, where he hacked the octopus into pieces and arranged them on a plate. When he finished and returned to the living room, Ke'er was gone. He shrugged, assuming she'd left on her own.

Then he remembered he hadn't showered in a day, and the sweat from yesterday's work still clung to his skin. The branch villa was empty, so he didn't bother with clothes. He stripped off his pants, wrapped a towel around his waist, and padded out back to the artificial hot spring he'd built behind the house. He slid the door open and stepped inside.

A high-pitched scream cut through the steam. "How dare you just walk in here? I'm in the middle of bathing!" Ke'er shouted. She was submerged in the hot spring, but at his entrance, she scrambled to cover herself with a long towel. Her breasts were enormous—the towel barely wrapped around her, and the dark edges of her areolas peeked out on each side. Jungsuk spun around and pressed his face against the wall. "I didn't know you were still here! I thought you'd left," he said, his voice tight with embarrassment.

Ke'er hugged the towel close, her cheeks flushed. "My place is being renovated. I can't use the bathroom there, so I decided to soak while I waited for the ink to dry off. Ugh, just get out of here!"

Before he could move, a car engine growled outside. Two men in dark suits climbed out, each pulling a pistol from their jacket. They positioned themselves behind the hot spring fence and opened fire. Bullets cracked against the stone tiles. Ke'er dove sideways, rolling behind a rock outcropping, her towel barely staying on. Jungsuk didn't think. He bolted out of the hot spring, grabbed his car keys, and sprinted to his sedan parked by the driveway. Still wearing only the towel, he jumped in, fired the engine, and smashed through the wooden fence surrounding the hot spring. Tires screeched as he pulled up beside Ke'er. "Get in!" he yelled.

She lunged into the car, landing on his lap. Her towel was still wrapped around her, but barely. "Move over—I'll drive," she said, grabbing the steering wheel. "I'm better at this than you." She pushed him back against the seat, her body pressed against his. He quickly pulled the seatbelt around both of them and clicked it into place. The assassins' car roared behind them, bullets pinging off the trunk. Ke'er floored the gas, weaving through narrow streets.

They hit a speed bump. The car jolted hard, and Jungsuk's hands flailed—one of them landed squarely on Ke'er's left breast, the other on her right. She yanked her head around. "Let go! Stop groping me!" she shouted, swatting at his hands.

He pulled away, but the motion shifted his hips. His penis, already semierect from the close contact, brushed against her crotch. Through the thin towel, he felt the heat of her body. She felt it too—a hard, warm pressure pressing into her opening. His cock began to stiffen and slide inside her, inch by inch. Ke'er's breath hitched. "Ah... mm... oh..." A soft moan escaped her lips as she tried to focus on the road.

They hit another speed bump. The car slammed down, driving his shaft deep into her. "Ahh!" she cried out, her back arching.

Up ahead, the road ended at a massive staircase—hundreds of steps descending into the lower part of the city. Ke'er's eyes widened. "We can't go down there—" she started, but the assassins' car was closing in. She gritted her teeth and turned the wheel. The car lurched onto the first step, then bounced down each stair with bone-rattling force. Every impact drove Jungsuk's cock deeper inside her. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep control, but the relentless motion made it impossible. Ke'er's towel slipped off completely, exposing her huge breasts. They bounced wildly with each jolt. She couldn't stop moaning. "Oh! Oh! Ah! Uh!" Her cries filled the car as the descent continued.

Ten minutes later, they reached the bottom. The staircase ended in a flat road, and Ke'er pulled onto a barren stretch of wasteland. The assassins' car was nowhere in sight. She tried to pull away, to lift herself off his cock, but Jungsuk's hands locked around her waist. "I've been holding back too long," he growled. "I can't take it anymore. I'm going to come inside you."

"Don't!" she screamed, but he pressed her down, grinding against her. With a deep groan, he released a torrent of thick semen into her. It kept coming—a long, hot stream that seemed to last for ages. She convulsed in his arms, her body racked with spasms as he pumped into her for three full minutes. Her legs trembled, and she let out a shaky breath as he finally went limp.