黑帮三三

The salt-tinged wind swept across the docks of Yedong City as the cargo vessel emerged from the morning mist. The harbor buzzed with the usual activity—fishermen unloading their catches, merchants haggling over crates of goods, and the ever-present hum of illicit commerce that flowed beneath the surface of legitimate trade. But today, the dockworkers who knew which ships mattered had noticed the extra attention from certain men in dark suits standing at attention near the mooring posts.

Park Dae-geun stood at the edge of the pier, his squat frame planted firmly despite the gentle rocking of the wooden planks beneath his feet. At just 155 centimeters, he was the shortest man among his entourage, but his shoulders were broad as an ox yoke, and the muscles straining against his jacket spoke of years of brutal labor and harder fights. His face was plain, almost ugly—a boxer's nose that had been broken too many times, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, and a jaw that looked like it had been carved from granite with a dull chisel. He wore a cheap black suit that did little to hide his powerful build.

The ship was close now, close enough that he could make out the figures on the bow. Two of them stood side by side, a striking contrast in every way.

Yi Meier raised her hand in a casual wave, her brown hair catching the morning light, the waves of it cascading past her shoulders. She was a tall woman, 175 centimeters of elegant power, and from this distance, even Park Dae-geun could appreciate the curve of her figure beneath her tailored white blouse and dark slacks. She carried herself with the easy authority of someone who had never known what it meant to be second best, yet her eyes held a warmth that softened her presence.

Beside her, Li Qing stood with his hands in his pockets, looking more like a university student than the heir to the Xuanwu Gang. He was shorter than her by a noticeable margin, his frame slender almost to the point of frailty. His face was youthful, with kind eyes and an easy smile that made him seem approachable, even harmless. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, completely out of place among the suit-clad underworld figures gathering on the dock.

The gangplank lowered with a clang against the concrete pier. Park Dae-geun stepped forward, his men parting to let him through. He bowed deeply, a gesture of respect that cost him nothing but meant everything in this world of razor-thin egos.

"Welcome, First Daughter of the Qinglong Gang. Welcome, First Son of the Xuanwu Gang." His voice was rough, like gravel rolling downhill. "I have arranged accommodations at a seaside inn for your stay. If you will follow me, I have a car waiting."

Yi Meier descended first, her heels clicking against the metal of the gangplank. Up close, she was even more striking—full lips painted a soft rose, high cheekbones that caught the light, and eyes the color of dark honey that seemed to hold ancient wisdom. Her white blouse strained against her chest, her curves impossible to hide no matter how modest her clothing. She moved with the fluid grace of a dancer or a fighter, every step deliberate and controlled.

"Thank you, Park-ssi," she said, her Mandarin carrying a hint of a neutral accent. "The journey was long, but the sea air is refreshing."

Li Qing jumped down from the gangplank before it fully settled, landing with a light thud beside his fiancée. He dusted off his hands and grinned at Park Dae-geun. "Nice island you've got here. Smells better than the mainland, that's for sure."

Park Dae-geun managed a tight smile. "I hope you find it to your liking. Please, this way."

The car was a black Mercedes sedan, polished to a mirror shine. Park Dae-geun held the door open for his guests, then climbed into the front passenger seat while his driver navigated the winding streets away from the harbor.

Yedong City sprawled before them like a living thing—a hybrid of Chinese architecture and Korean design, with neon signs in both languages competing for attention alongside Japanese characters that had begun to appear in recent years. High-rise hotels cast shadows over traditional market streets, and everywhere, the pulse of commerce beat like a heart. Legal commerce, illegal commerce—here on Black Gold Island, the line between them was as thin as a blade's edge.

As they drove, Park Dae-geun turned in his seat to face his guests. "I will not waste your time with pleasantries," he began, his voice lowering. "The Takeuchi Group has been making moves. They have encroached on territory that my family has administered for three generations. They have made offers to businesses that have been loyal to the Damun Gate for decades. And now..." He paused, his jaw tightening. "They believe they can replace us. That they can dictate terms to the underground of Yedong City."

Yi Meier listened, her expression unreadable. She folded her hands in her lap, her manicured nails tapping a slow rhythm against her knuckles. "The Qinglong Gang has noted the Takeuchi Group's movements. They have been expanding aggressively in sectors we monitor. But we have not yet seen evidence of a direct threat to our interests."

"They are patient," Park Dae-geun said, his voice urgent. "They play the long game. But I tell you, if they succeed in establishing dominance over the island's underworld, they will not stop at the Damun Gate's territory. They will come for the Chinese gangs next. The island belongs to no single power, but the Takeuchi Group would make it theirs."

Li Qing stretched his arms over his head, his thin frame cracking as he leaned back in the leather seat. "Look, Park-ssi, I get it. You're worried about your family's legacy. That's respectable. But the Qinglong and Xuanwu have been here long before the Takeuchi Group showed up, and we'll be here long after they're gone. They're a new player trying to make a name for themselves. They're not a threat to the established order."

"Your confidence is admirable," Park Dae-geun replied, his voice strained with civility, "but perhaps misplaced. The Takeuchi Group has already attempted to assassinate my father. He lies in a hospital bed because of their ambitions. They are not playing by the old rules."

The car fell silent for a moment. Yi Meier exchanged a glance with Li Qing, something passing between them that Park Dae-geun could not read.

"Then we will investigate," Yi Meier said finally. "The Qinglong Gang will not make alliances lightly, but we also will not ignore a potential threat. I will need to see proof of their dealings before I commit my family's resources."

"Of course," Park Dae-geun said, bowing his head slightly. "I will provide whatever evidence you require. But I ask only this—do not take too long. Time is a luxury my family does not have."

Li Qing waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, brother. The island isn't going anywhere. And besides, my girl and I have never actually visited Yedong City properly. We've always left the island business to our underlings. Why don't we take a few days to see the sights? You can show us around, introduce us to the local cuisine. We'll talk business when we've got sand between our toes and some good seafood in our bellies."

Park Dae-geun's jaw worked as he processed this. He clearly wanted to press the issue, but he knew better than to push too hard with the heirs of two major powers. "Very well. I will first take you to your respective gang compounds on the island, so that your people may know you have arrived. After that, the inn I have arranged is quiet and private. The beach is clean. You can rest tonight, and tomorrow... tomorrow we can discuss matters further."

They drove through the streets of Yedong City, passing through districts that bore the distinct stamps of each gang's influence. The Qinglong compound was a fortress disguised as a traditional Chinese manor, walls painted in deep green with dragons coiled along the roofline. The Xuanwu compound sat at the northern edge of the city, built low and solid like a fortress, its walls black as the turtle it was named after. At each stop, Yi Meier and Li Qing stepped out briefly to greet their subordinates, to show their faces, to remind the island that the mainland's power had arrived.

By the time they reached the seaside inn, the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The inn was modest by the standards of people who could afford the penthouse of the Gratus Hotel—a two-story wooden structure built in traditional Korean style, with a garden of carefully tended bonsai and a view of the sea that stretched endlessly into the distance.

Park Dae-geun parked the car himself and walked them to the entrance. "I had hoped to offer you the Gratus Five Stars Hotel," he said, genuine apology in his voice. "Unfortunately, it is currently under renovation. The moment it reopens, I will welcome you properly as honored guests of my family's territory."

Yi Meier smiled, a genuine warmth in her expression. "This is more than sufficient, Park-ssi. The sound of the waves is already calming."

"Rest well," Park Dae-geun said, bowing once more. "Tomorrow, we can begin our discussions in earnest. But for tonight... enjoy the island." He turned and walked back to his car, its engine roaring to life before disappearing down the coastal road.

The innkeeper, an elderly Korean woman with kind eyes and missing teeth, showed them to their room—a spacious suite with traditional paper doors that slid open to reveal a private veranda overlooking the ocean. The bedding was laid out on the floor, thick futons arranged side by side. Incense burned in a small holder, the scent of sandalwood mingling with the salt air.

Li Qing tossed himself onto the futon with a groan of satisfaction, reaching for the remote control on the low table. The television flickered to life, showing some variety show where comedians were attempting to balance plates on their heads.

Yi Meier watched him for a moment, a soft smile playing at her lips. "I'm going to bathe. The salt from the sea has made my skin sticky."

"Take your time," Li Qing said, already engrossed in the antics on screen. "I'll be right here."

She gathered her belongings and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. The sound of running water soon filled the suite, a rhythmic counterpoint to the distant crash of waves.

When she emerged, the room had grown darker, the only light coming from the television and the faint glow of sunset through the paper screens. Li Qing had turned off the TV and was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her.

Yi Meier had changed into a black lace chemise that left little to the imagination. The fabric clung to her generous curves, the thin straps barely supporting the weight of her chest. Her hair was still damp, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and her skin glowed with the warmth of the bath.

She walked to the futon with deliberate grace, letting him watch her approach. When she reached him, she flopped onto the futon beside him, stretching her long limbs with a satisfied sigh. Her arm brushed against his, and she turned her head to meet his eyes.

"A whole island to ourselves," she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky register. "No elders watching. No subordinates reporting back to the mainland. Just you and me."

Li Qing's breath caught slightly. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, following the curve of the lace. His hand was slender, almost delicate against her skin. "And what do you want to do with all this freedom?"

Her smile deepened. She shifted closer, her body pressing against his, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of his pants. "I want to feel you," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want to taste you. I want to remember that yo

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The two boats limped across the dark water, engines sputtering. The fuel gauges were down to nothing—both of them. Park Dae-geun's little fishing boat had barely enough to putter along at a crawl, and I-meier's luxury yacht wasn't much better off. She'd throttled back to conserve every drop, but the big yacht still had some life left. So she did the only thing that made sense: she tossed a tow line to Dae-geun and pulled his sorry little vessel behind her.

Neither of them had any clue where they were. The GPS on Dae-geun's boat had gone out during the chase, and I-meier's navigation system was showing nothing but empty ocean. They were drifting on luck and prayers.

Dae-geun raised his binoculars and scanned the horizon. For a long while there was nothing—just endless blue. Then he caught something. A dark smudge on the water, small and low. He adjusted the focus and made out rocky cliffs and a fringe of scraggly trees. It was an island, small and wild, with no sign of settlement. He grabbed the radio.

"I-meier, you see that? Dead ahead. Looks like an island. No name on my charts, but it's something."

I-meier's voice crackled back. "I see it. What's it called?"

"No idea. Let's call it Snake Island. Looks like a snake from here. Anyway, we're burning fumes. We need to stop."

She hesitated only a second. "Agreed. I'll pull us into that bay. There's a natural harbor. We'll hole up there until Lee Cheong can come get us."

The bay was tight but deep enough for both vessels. I-meier guided the yacht in, her engines grumbling, and Dae-geun's fishing boat bumped against the big hull as they tied up side by side. The size difference was comical—a sleek white giant nuzzling a battered little workboat. They looked like a whale and a minnow, clinging together for safety.

Once the lines were secure, I-meier grabbed her radio and called Lee Cheong. The signal was weak, but it held.

"Lee Cheong, we made it to an island. Snake Island. We're safe for now, but we're out of fuel. When can you come?"

Lee Cheong's voice came through strained. "Not for a while. The Jokuzu group sent thugs to block the refueling points. I can't get anything out for at least three days. I have to wait for the main fleet from headquarters. But there's good news—the Mun family destroyed Jokuzu's boats. They can't attack you from the sea anymore. How are you and Dae-geun?"

I-meier glanced at the little man on his boat. "We're fine. Just stranded. Keep me updated."

"Will do. Stay safe."

She clicked off and stepped out onto the deck. The island rose before them, wild and untended. A narrow path led inland, choked with tall grass that had grown thick from years of neglect. Beyond it, she could see a small shack, its roof sagging and windows dark. No one had lived here for a long time.

Dae-geun climbed onto her yacht, wiping sweat from his forehead. "This place is a ghost."

"Perfect for ghosts like us." I-meier smiled, but it was tired. She wore only a white shirt and a black skirt now—the only clothes she had left that weren't soaked in sea spray. "Let's take a look around."

They followed the path. The grass scratched their legs and the air smelled of salt and rot. The shack was worse up close—boards warped, door hanging off one hinge, the floor inside littered with dried leaves and bird droppings. A single room with a cracked window. But it was shelter.

Back on the beach as dusk fell, they gathered driftwood and built a fire. The flames flickered against the dark, the only light for miles. They sat side by side, the warmth on their faces, the waves lapping softly.

I-meier stared into the fire. "Dae-geun, why did you come for me? You could have gone with Lee Cheong. You could have escaped. Why risk your life for me?"

He looked at her, his face earnest in the firelight. "I knew those Jokuzu bastards would want to kill you. To take down the Blue Dragon. I know their kind. I had to protect you." He paused, his voice dropping. "And the truth is, I— I really feel something for you. I've always felt it."

Before he could finish, I-meier leaned in and kissed him. It was sudden, fierce—her lips pressed to his, her hand on his cheek. The kiss deepened, grew hotter, more urgent. Her tongue slid against his, and he responded with equal fire. They kissed until they had to break for air, but she stayed close, her forehead against his.

"I've spent my whole life being the strong one for the gang," she whispered. "Lee Cheong has loved me since we were kids. I've always looked out for him, protected him. He thinks of me as his future wife, but I see him as a younger brother. I was supposed to marry him—it was for the families, for the alliance. But you... you're the only one who ever put my life before your own. You treat me like I'm worth protecting." Her voice cracked. "I think I like you. I think I do. But I've been holding it back. I... I..."

He took her hand. "I-meier, that's what I love about you. Even if you married Lee Cheong, I wouldn't care. I just want to be in your heart. I want you to have room for me, alongside the gang, alongside everything. I love you. I love you, Blue Dragon boss."

She stopped wavering. She stood, pulled off her shirt, let her skirt fall. In the firelight, her body was beautiful and strong, her full breasts bare. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the shack. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and inviting. "If you really love me, show me you're man enough to follow."

He rose, his erection already straining against his pants, and followed her into the darkness of the shack.

Inside, the night came alive with the sounds of two bodies finding each other. Dae-geun held her by the waist, driving into her from behind, his hands on her hips. She twisted her head and kissed him, laughing softly. He reached around and cupped her breasts, rough and eager. She reached back, one hand around his neck, the other spreading her own cheek to make room for his size.

Thirty minutes later, he came—a thick, hot flood that filled her deep. She shuddered, moaning as the warmth spread through her. He kept coming, a long, rolling release that lasted three full minutes.

Then she sank to her knees, a grin on her face, and took him in her mouth. She worked him with loving skill, her eyes locked on his, until he was hard again, as if he'd never stopped.

They went again. And again. By the time they finished the fourth round, Dae-geun picked her up and carried her to his little fishing boat. She kissed his face all the way, her arms around his neck. The boat rocked and swayed on the gentle swell as she cried out, her voice carrying over the water, mingling with the sound of waves. They made love through the night, round after round, until the stars faded and the sky turned pink.

When the sun finally rose, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and slept.

At ten in the morning, Dae-geun woke to the creak of the boat and the warmth of the sun. He blinked, groggy. I-meier stood over him, a plate of food in her hand—bread and fruit she'd brought from her yacht. She smiled, bent down, and kissed his forehead.

"Sun's burning your butt, lazy one."

He grinned up at her. "Morning."

She sat beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder, and together they watched the calm sea. For a moment, there was no gang war, no running, no danger. Just two people on a tiny boat in the middle of nowhere, holding on to each other.

The radio crackled with Li Qing’s voice. “Yimei’er, listen to me. The boat on my end needs some paperwork before it can leave. Can you wait another five days?”

Yimei’er had Park Dageun’s cock in her mouth, and she had to muffle her reply around it. “Mmm—mmph—buddy nah-huh.”

Li Qing frowned at the odd sound. “Uh? What are you eating in there?”

Yimei’er suddenly remembered her situation and scrambled for a lie. “Ah—it’s like this. I’m eating a popsicle on my yacht. Can’t stop now, it’ll melt. I’ll just talk while I eat.”

Li Qing believed her. “Oh, I see. Do you have enough supplies?”

“Mmm—ngh—slurp—mmph so big—oh right, the supplies are quite big. I mean, plenty of supplies, enough to last,” she said, the wet sounds of her mouth punctuating every word.

They talked about several things—fuel, backup plans, the weather—until Li Qing finally felt satisfied that everything was fine on her end. He signed off.

On that deserted island, the two of them confirmed their love. It would be a secret forever, never to reach the Li family. They wandered the beach, hand in hand. Park Dageun sat in the sand, cracked open a coconut, drank, then leaned over and took Yimei’er’s breast into his mouth. She let him. She was in love now, and he could do whatever he wanted. One of her hands played with his shaft while they made love in the open air, then on the bow of her huge yacht. At night they kissed passionately, showered together. Yimei’er pouted playfully. “You’re such a nuisance—you never stop.”

She changed into a white one-piece bikini and asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

Park Dageun scooped her up in a princess carry. Yimei’er let out an excited shriek. They were inseparable, barely able to keep their hands off each other.

A few days later, Li Qing arrived with a fuel supply boat. Yimei’er and Park Dageun greeted him as if nothing had happened, maintaining their usual composure. Yimei’er walked up to Li Qing and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

Park Dageun clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought I was going to end up a savage here, Brother Li. Man, I’m glad you came. Finally, we can go home.”

The three of them fell back into their old dynamic, betraying no hint of what had passed on the island.

A month later, Li Qing and Yimei’er held their wedding. The marriage symbolized the everlasting friendship between the Blue Dragon Gang and the Black Tortoise Gang. Park Dageun approached Yimei’er in her bridal gown. “Congratulations. And that dress—you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

After the ceremony, Li Qing was supposed to take his new wife home, but an urgent matter at a Black Tortoise Gang branch forced him to task a trusted man with driving her. Park Dageun took the wheel. In the back seat sat Yimei’er in her elegant white wedding dress.

When they reached a desolate stretch of road, Park Dageun checked his mirrors, saw no one, and turned the car into a nearby reed marsh. Soon the vehicle began to rock. Inside, they kissed and made love on the seats. “Ah,” Park Dageun said, “you look stunning in that wedding dress.”

“Do you like it?” Yimei’er breathed excitedly.

“I love it.”

They spent an hour before finally heading home.

A few days later, Yimei’er and Li Qing were seen having a cozy date at a city café, laughing and acting like a perfectly happy couple. Nobody would ever know about her secret with Park Dageun.

That evening, Yimei’er slipped into a red high-slit dress that showed the lower curve of her breasts and left her long hair flowing. The slit revealed a glimpse of a sexy black garter belt. Li Qing raised an eyebrow. “Dressed so glamorously—where are you off to?”

“Oh! The Big Gate Gang invited me to their fortieth-anniversary gala tonight. I’m going as a guest.”

“I see. Then take care,” Li Qing said, too trusting to question further.

In a secret suite beneath the Regal Hotel, Park Dageun and Yimei’er embraced in a deep kiss. They spent five straight hours in bed. “Mmm—stay with me a little longer,” she whispered.

“Tonight,” he growled, “I’ll fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“Now that’s more like it,” she said.

Suddenly her phone rang. Yimei’er answered, and her face shifted into the authoritative demeanor of a gang boss. “Hello? Ah, it’s you, Little Sister. What’s wrong? Nobody came to pick you up at the dock?”

Park Dageun murmured softly, “I can have my younger brother, Park Jung-seok, pick her up. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Her name is Yike’er.”

He made a quick call to his brother, then returned his attention to Yimei’er. They went back to their passionate entanglement. Park Jung-seok knew nothing of their relationship—he saw it only as a normal alliance between gang leaders. Yike’er, the younger sister, also believed her sister’s marriage to Li Qing was genuine, unaware of the hidden affair.

So ends the tale of Yimei’er and Park Dageun—for now. What comes next is the story of Yike’er, Li Tian, and Park Jung-seok. But that will have to wait for the next chapter.

The late afternoon sun hung low over the pier, casting long shadows across the weathered wooden planks. Park Jung-seok stood by his black sedan, one hand resting on the open door, the other pressing his phone to his ear. His brother's voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and commanding.

"Jung-seok, you need to go to the main dock now. The boat from China is arriving soon. Yi Ke'er, the second-in-command of the Qinglong Gang, is coming. She's Yi Mei'er's sister. Treat her with the utmost respect. Do not screw this up."

Park Jung-seok nodded, his stocky frame tense. At 158 centimeters, he was short but solid, every muscle defined from years of street fights and labor. His face was plain, almost ugly, with a flat nose and narrow eyes that held a perpetual glint of mischief. "Got it, hyung. I'll handle it."

He hung up and slid into the driver's seat, the leather creaking under his weight. Just as he reached for the ignition, his phone buzzed again. A subordinate, Kim Dong-soo, was on the line.

"Jung-seok hyung! I found a real beauty for you. A whore, fresh from the mainland. You want her?"

Park Jung-seok's brow furrowed. "Not now. I'm heading to the dock to pick someone up."

"Ah, but that's the thing," Kim Dong-soo said, his voice eager. "She's at the dock right now. Just swing by, take a look, see if she's to your taste. I swear, she's top-notch."

Park Jung-seok's lips curled into a grin. He glanced at the dash clock. The boat wasn't due for another twenty minutes. Plenty of time. "Alright, I'll have a peek. If she's hot, send her to my villa. She can wait there until I'm done. Then we'll have some fun."

"Got it, hyung!"

He laughed to himself, revving the engine. The sedan growled through the narrow streets of Yeodong City, past crumbling warehouses and neon-lit bars. The Black Gold Island port was a chaotic mess of cargo ships and fishing boats, but the main pier for high-status guests was quieter, reserved for private vessels.

Park Jung-seok parked near the edge of the dock and stepped out, adjusting his leather jacket. He scanned the area, his eyes landing on a woman standing alone by the railing.

She was tall, at least 176 centimeters, with long, jet-black hair that fell straight and glossy past her shoulders. Her face was striking—sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to pierce through everything they landed on. She wore a high-slit black cheongsam, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. The dress was cut low at the chest, showing the deep valley between breasts that looked ready to burst out. Her long legs were sheathed in black stockings, the slit rising almost to her hip.

Park Jung-seok's breath caught. *That's her. That's the whore Dong-soo found. Damn, she's a goddess.*

He sauntered over, his confidence swelling. As he approached, the woman turned to face him. Her gaze was sharp, focused, and unwavering. It held a dangerous edge, but Park Jung-seok, blinded by lust, didn't notice.

"You're here," she said, her voice smooth and cold. "I—"

He raised a finger and pressed it gently against her lips. "I know. You're waiting for me. And I'm waiting for you too. But tonight, I've got another job first. Tell you what—I'll give you the address of my place. The second division headquarters of Daemun. It's just a villa, really, only me living there. Take this key." He pulled a spare key from his pocket and slipped it into her handbag without waiting for her reaction. "Make yourself at home. I suggest you take a shower and wait for me. Alright, baby?"

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The woman's eyes narrowed, a flash of murderous intent flickering within them. But Park Jung-seok's hand slid down, greedily gripping her breast through the thin silk.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her hand shot up, caught his wrist, and twisted with brutal force. A sickening *crack* echoed as his shoulder joint dislocated.

Park Jung-seok screamed, dropping to his knees. "Aaaah! That hurts! Come on, even if you don't want to provide service, you don't have to treat a customer like this!"

The woman stood over him, her face stone-cold. "I am Yi Ke'er of the Qinglong Gang. No one has ever dared to insult me so casually. I should leave you with a permanent reminder of your mistake."

Park Jung-seok's eyes went wide. Pain and shock mixed on his face. "Yi Ke'er! You're the second-in-command? I thought you were... never mind. Please, let me go. I made a mistake—I mistook you for someone else. I'm Park Jung-seok, acting boss of Daemun, younger brother of Park Dae-geun. I came here on my brother's orders to pick you up. Please, it was an accident."

Yi Ke'er released his wrist. He scrambled to his feet, wincing as he popped his shoulder back into place with a grunt. He straightened his jacket, trying to regain composure. "Welcome to Yeodong City, Miss Yi Ke'er. That was a misunderstanding. I'm actually a very proper gentleman. I hope you won't hold it against me."

Just then, Kim Dong-soo jogged up the pier, dragging a heavily made-up woman by the hand. Her face was caked with powder, her lips painted a garish red, and she wore a cheap sequined dress. "Hyung! Sorry, I got held up. She didn't know where the dock was. I brought her myself. Look, isn't she gorgeous? Want me to take her to your villa?"

Park Jung-seok's face turned beet red. He covered his eyes with his hand, groaning internally. *This idiot. Of all the times.*

Yi Ke'er let out a low, mocking laugh. "So *that's* your idea of a proper gentleman?"

She walked past him and slid into the back seat of his sedan, her voice carrying through the open window. "Drive. Take me to the private beach villa the Qinglong Gang prepared for me. Now."

Park Jung-seok shot a furious glare at Kim Dong-soo, who shrank back, realizing his blunder. "I'll deal with you later," he hissed.

He got into the driver's seat, started the car, and pulled away from the dock. The silence was heavy. He cleared his throat. "Miss Yi Ke'er, I want to apologize again for the earlier... misunderstanding. It was entirely my fault. I hope this doesn't damage the relationship between our gangs. Daemun holds the Qinglong Gang in the highest respect."

Yi Ke'er stared out the window, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips. "We'll see, Mr. Park. We'll see."

The car sped along the coastal road, the waves crashing against the rocks below. Park Jung-seok kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight. He had a lot of damage control to do. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.

Three days later, Park Jing-shuo arrived at the island where the Black Tortoise Gang's second division was stationed. He went to greet Li Tian, the second son of Second Brother Li Qing—who was himself one of the many sons of the previous generation's Black Tortoise boss. Li Tian was also a deputy in charge of this branch.

"Deputy Li Tian, you've only been on the island a week. Getting used to it yet?" Park Jing-shuo said, forcing a casual tone. "Looks like you and I are in the same boat, stuck guarding a branch all alone."

Li Tian, a 27-year-old Chinese man standing 170 centimeters with an average, slightly thin build, gave a small smile. "Ah, you're wrong about that. It's two people now. You know my fiancée came along with me."

Park Jing-shuo raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "Oh? Is that so? Must be quite a woman to win the heart of Black Tortoise's number two, Li Tian."

Just then, footsteps sounded from the stairs. A beautiful woman in an office lady outfit descended, her face lit with a sweet, playful smile. "Honey, look what I found—a cat! Isn't it adorable?"

The woman was Yi Ke'er.

The moment she spotted Park Jing-shuo, her expression hardened instantly. The sweet smile vanished, replaced by the cold, proud mask of a female executive. "Well, well. Isn't this Gate Gang's number two, Park Jing-shuo?"

Li Tian blinked, looking between them. "Ah, so you two know each other? I was actually about to take you to the Gate Gang's second division. I can lead the way—"

Yi Ke'er let out a sly laugh. "I don't think that'll be necessary. For certain reasons, I already know where it is. Isn't that right, Mr. Park Jing-shuo?"

Park Jing-shuo pretended to look around at the scenery, as if deeply fascinated by a distant tree. His neck flushed with embarrassment, and he couldn't meet her eyes.

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

Yi Ke'er waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing. Just some trivial matter. It's nothing important."

Li Tian didn't push. If Yi Ke'er said it was fine, then it was fine. He trusted her.

Park Jing-shuo muttered a quick goodbye and turned to leave. As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. Just as Yi Ke'er leaned in to kiss Li Tian on the cheek, Park Jing-shuo stuck out his tongue in a childish taunt and made a loud, derisive sound: "Nyaah nyaah nyaah—stinking woman!"

Yi Ke'er's eyes flashed with anger. She let out an exasperated sigh, then a defiant "Hmph!" under her breath.

Li Tian noticed the obvious tension between them and shook his head with a wry smile, but he said nothing.

Once Park Jing-shuo was gone, Yi Ke'er and Li Tian returned to their room. She transformed instantly, like a cat that had found its favorite spot. She clung to him, nuzzling against his chest, then pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply, trying to ignite his desire. Her hands moved quickly, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants. She knelt and took his cock into her mouth. It was erect now, about nine centimeters—not large, but she didn't mind. She guided it between her breasts, pressing her ample chest around him until the small shaft was completely buried, invisible beneath her soft flesh. She began to move, rubbing herself against him, then climbed on top and started to ride him. Her body rocked wildly, desperate and eager.

But in less than six minutes, Li Tian came. His release was weak—the fluid barely spurted, lacking force or distance. It could never reach deep enough inside her. If he wanted to get her pregnant, it would take many, many attempts. And even then, the odds were slim.

After ejaculating once, Li Tian collapsed, utterly spent. He lay there, breathing hard, needing a long rest before he could even move again.

Yi Ke'er leaned down and kissed his cheek gently. "You did great, honey. You tried your best. We'll do better next time."

There was nothing but love in her eyes as she stroked his face.

Two days later, Yi Ke'er showed up at the Gate Gang's second division villa. Park Jing-shuo opened the door, and his expression soured the instant he saw her.

"Well, well. What wind blew you over here? Because it sure isn't a good wind," he said through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yi Ke'er remained calm, her posture confident and elegant. "I just wanted to see what kind of savage territory your second division leader lives in."

Park Jing-shuo glanced past her. "Where's your fiancé? Li Tian?"

"He's busy with something. Couldn't come. I'm just taking a quick look around, and I'll be on my way."

"Excuse me a moment. I need to use the bathroom," Park Jing-shuo said flatly.

He went into the restroom and immediately called his older brother, Park Dae-geun. "Big brother, what the hell were you thinking? Do you know I've got a troublesome woman on my hands now?"

On the other end of the line, Park Dae-geun was currently receiving oral sex from Yi Mei'er. He tried to keep his voice steady. "Ah... comfortable... Brother, don't take it so hard. Think of it as a test of character. As your older brother, I order you to keep your temper in check. Ohhh... ohhh..."

Park Jing-shuo frowned. "Why do you keep making weird noises?"

Caught off guard, Park Dae-geun lied smoothly. "Uh, that's just my daily muscle training. I make strange sounds when I work out. Ooh... ohhh... I'm busy now. I'll hang up." He ended the call.

Park Jing-shuo bought the excuse. "Weird habit, but whatever," he muttered.

Meanwhile, Yi Ke'er had stepped outside and called her sister, Yi Mei'er. "Hey, big sis, how are you and Brother Li Qing doing? I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. Listen, I ran into Park Jing-shuo a few days ago. That guy really pisses me off. He did something bad to me. Ugh, I hate him. He's disgusting."

On the other end, Yi Mei'er was still orally pleasuring Park Dae-geun's massive erection. She managed to reply between movements. "Mmm... mmm... pop! Little sister, you're a grown woman now. You shouldn't judge someone so one-sidedly... mmm... so big!"

Yi Ke'er was puzzled. "So big? What's big?"

Yi Mei'er scrambled for an excuse. "Nothing! I'm just eating a popsicle. It's a bit... mmm... pop! Big! Really big, this popsicle!"

Yi Ke'er assumed her sister was just eating a frozen treat. Satisfied, she ended the call.

Ike'er continued her tour of Park Jeong-seok's villa, moving through the hallways with an air of casual curiosity. The place was modern, expensive, and painfully impersonal—like a showroom no one actually lived in. She passed a home theater, a wine cellar, a gym with equipment that looked brand new, and at least three guest bathrooms she had no business peeking into.

"Rich people really do live differently," she muttered to herself.

But when she reached the master bedroom and pushed open the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyebrows shot up. Her lips parted slightly.

It was a disaster.

Clothes were strewn across the floor like a breadcrumb trail leading to the bed. The bedsheets were twisted into a knot at the foot of the mattress, and the pillows had clearly seen better days—one was on the floor, the other was bent in half under the corner of a laptop. Empty snack wrappers littered the nightstand next to a half-empty glass of something that had long since stopped being drinkable. A suit jacket hung off the edge of a dresser drawer that was still open. There were three ties dangling from the doorknob like dead snakes.

Ike'er folded her arms and let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Unbelievable."

Park Jeong-seok leaned against the doorframe behind her, arms crossed, looking vaguely embarrassed but too proud to admit it. "It's not usually this bad."

"Really?" Ike'er turned to look at him with deadpan skepticism. "Because this looks like a crime scene, and the victim was organization."

"It's been a busy week."

"It's been a busy decade, from the looks of it." She stepped inside, careful not to step on a stray sock. "Honestly, how do you live like this? You're the head of a gang. You have people who work for you. Get one of them to clean."

"They're not maids, they're—"

"Enforcers? Accountants? I don't care what they are. Get someone." She bent down and picked up a crumpled dress shirt from the floor. It was wrinkled, but it didn't smell. Small mercies. "You're a grown man, Park Jeong-seok. A grown man who apparently never learned what a laundry hamper is."

Park Jeong-seok scratched the back of his head. "I was going to get to it."

"When? Next lunar year?"

Ike'er threw the shirt onto the bed and began moving through the room with methodical precision. She picked up the snack wrappers first, tossing them into a small trash bin she found half-hidden under the desk. She grabbed the glass, sniffed it, grimaced, and set it aside to take to the kitchen. She pulled the sheets off the bed with one sharp tug and piled them in the corner.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?" Park Jeong-seok stepped into the room. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to. I'm doing it anyway." Ike'er yanked open the curtains and sunlight flooded the room, making him squint. "Consider this a one-time charity service. I'm helping you because watching this room makes me physically uncomfortable. But there will not be a second time. Understand?"

He blinked. "Understood."

She moved to the dresser, began folding the stray clothes with practiced efficiency. "If you want this place to stay clean, you need a system. Or better yet, you need a girlfriend. Or a wife. Someone who doesn't tolerate living in a trash heap."

"I don't have either of those."

"No kidding." She shot him a glance over her shoulder. "I figured. A man who lives like this probably doesn't have a woman willing to stick around. Actually, I'm surprised you even have women willing to visit."

His face went red. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ike'er shrugged innocently. "Just an observation. You have to call your underlings to arrange for prostitutes. That's not exactly the hallmark of a man with options."

Park Jeong-seok's mouth opened, then closed. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, alright. I get it. I messed up. I already told you I was sorry about that. I thought you were someone else."

"I know." Ike'er smoothed out a folded sweater and set it on the dresser. "And I'm not angry about it. I can't be. You're pathetic enough already."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a single man who has to resort to paid company to solve his needs." She turned to face him, arms folded, a teasing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I mean, I don't hate you for it. I pity you. There's a difference."

Park Jeong-seok's ears burned red. He shoved his hands into his pockets and mumbled something under his breath.

Ike'er raised an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

"I said..." He cleared his throat, louder this time. "I didn't actually... solve anything. That night. It was my first time trying, and it failed. Because I mistook you for the girl I hired."

She stopped folding. Her hands hovered over a half-folded shirt. "What?"

"You heard me." He wouldn't meet her eyes now. His voice had turned gruff, defensive. "I'm still a... you know."

"A what?"

"A virgin, okay?" The words came out in a rush, like he was ripping off a bandage. "I'm still a virgin. I tried to fix that, and it didn't work because I grabbed the wrong woman. So go ahead. Laugh. I know it's funny. I'm the head of a gang, I'm almost thirty, and I've never—"

"I'm not going to laugh."

The quiet sincerity in her voice cut him off. He looked up. She was looking at him with an expression he hadn't expected. No mockery. No teasing. Just calm, steady eyes.

"Really?" he asked, suspicious.

"Really." She went back to folding the shirt. "I don't think there's anything wrong with a man choosing to stay a virgin until he finds someone he actually loves. That's not shameful. That's... principled, actually. In a weird way."

Park Jeong-seok didn't know what to say. He stood there, watching her work, and felt something shift in his chest. She wasn't what he'd expected. She had a sharp tongue and no filter, sure. But there was something beneath it. A kind of grounded decency that he hadn't seen in a lot of people in his line of work.

No wonder she was the vice-head of the Blue Dragon Gang. She carried herself like someone who deserved respect.

"Still," Ike'er added, her tone lightening back into a teasing lilt, "I'm not sure you'll find that someone in this lifetime. You're kind of a mess."

The warmth in his chest fizzled out. "Ah. There it is."

"I'm just being honest." She picked up a pillow from the floor and tossed it onto the bare mattress. "It would be cruel of me to laugh at a poor, hopeless creature like you. I'm not a monster."

"You're something, alright."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She pointed at the sofa by the window. "Go sit down. You're in my way."

Park Jeong-seok grumbled but obeyed, flopping onto the sofa with his arms crossed. He watched as she moved through the room with an efficiency that bordered on surgical. She picked up, folded, straightened, and organized with a focused expression that he found himself unable to look away from.

And then he noticed something else.

Every time she bent over to pick something off the floor, her top shifted. Her outfit—a fitted black blouse that buttoned low enough to show a daring glimpse of her chest—would gape just slightly, revealing the pale curve of her cleavage. It was deep. Flawless. The kind of sight that made a man forget what he was supposed to be doing.

She was tall, 176 centimeters, with long black hair that fell straight and glossy down her back. Her face could have been on magazine covers. Her legs went on forever.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

Ike'er straightened up and turned, a dust rag in her hand. "Hm? Did you say something?"

Park Jeong-seok's brain short-circuited. "No. Nothing. I talk to myself sometimes. Don't mind me."

She gave him a curious look but didn't push. She turned back to the dresser and continued organizing.

Thirty minutes later, the room was spotless. The bed was remade with fresh sheets. The clothes were folded and put away. The trash was gone. The windows were open, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of the garden.

Ike'er dusted off her hands and surveyed her work with a satisfied nod. "There. That's what a bedroom should look like."

"You're a miracle worker," Park Jeong-seok admitted.

"I know."

She walked toward the door, and he followed her down the hallway, through the living room, and out to the front entrance. She slipped her shoes back on and stepped outside. The afternoon air was warm.

Park Jeong-seok stood on the doorstep. "Ike'er-ssi... I really hope our little misunderstanding doesn't cause any problems between the Dae Moon Gang and the Blue Dragon Gang. My brother specifically told me to maintain good relations with you. For the sake of both organizations, I'd like it if we could—"

Ike'er turned to face him fully, the breeze catching her hair. "And what do you think?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I asked what you think." Her voice was calm, but direct. Not cold—just honest. "You keep talking about the gangs. Business. Policy. But I want to know what you personally think. Can you be friendly with me? Not as the vice-head of Blue Dragon, not as a representative of my organization. Just as me. And more importantly—do you want to?"

Park Jeong-seok fell silent.

The question caught him off guard. He thought about it. Really thought about it. The way she'd torn into him. The way she'd cleaned his room without being asked. The way she'd looked at him when he admitted his shameful secret and hadn't laughed.

He took a breath. "Actually... I think you're really attractive. I might even like you a little. Would you be willing to become my—"

"Whoa whoa whoa—stop right there." Ike'er held up both hands like she was stopping traffic. "Let me cut you off before you embarrass yourself further. I think you're misunderstanding the situation. I came here today to extend an olive branch. To be polite. To show that Blue Dragon has no hard feelings. It was a diplomatic visit."

"I know, but I can wait. If you need time, I can—"

"No." Her voice was firm now. "Don't wait. It's not going to happen. Ever. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"I'm already spoken for." She put her hands on her hips. "I have a fiancé. I thought you knew. His name is Ri Cheon. He's your close friend. You two hang out all the time. I can't believe he never told you about me."

Park Jeong-seok's face went pale. Green, almost. "Ri Cheon? Your... your fiancé is Ri Cheon?"

"That's what I just said, yes."

"I..." He stared at the ground. "I just confessed to my brother's woman. I was about to ask her to come inside and—" He stopped himself, but the damage was done.

"And do what? Have sex? Have ten kids? Live happily ever after?" Ike'er's eyes narrowed. "You were going to say that, weren't you?"

"Maybe. Yes. I was."

The silence stretched for exactly one second.

Then Ike'er raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

The sound cracked through the quiet afternoon air. His head snapped to the side, and a bright red handprint bloomed across his cheek. He stood there, stunned, the sting radiating through his jaw.

"Ow."

"Good." Ike'er lowered her hand. "That's for even thinking about it."

"I deserved that." He rubbed his cheek, wincing. "At least I'm honest."

She turned to leave.

"Ike'er-ssi!"

She stopped. Didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For real. I know that doesn't fix it, but I'm sorry. And... you were right. I deserved that slap."

She looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "You did. But I'll give you credit. You're straightforward. Stupid, but honest."

He bowed deeply, a formal, respectful bow. "Since I have no chance with you romantically, I'll dedicate myself to building a friendship between our gangs. And... personally, I'd like to earn your respect. If that's possible."

Ike'er's expression softened. A small smile crept onto her face.

"Then you'd better work hard," she said. "I'm not easy to impress."

"I'll do my best."

"I'm counting on it."

With that, she turned and

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

The warehouse loomed in the industrial district, its corrugated iron roof rusted and peppered with holes. Li Tian parked the sedan a few meters from the rolling shutter door, killed the engine, and turned to Yi Ke'er in the back seat. "You stay here. Keep the radio on. If we're not out in thirty minutes, call the backup number."

Yi Ke'er nodded, though her eyes betrayed her worry. "Be careful."

Park Jingseok cracked his knuckles and slid out of the passenger side. "Relax, little bird. We've handled worse."

They approached the shutter door. Li Tian ducked underneath and lifted it just enough to slip through. Inside, the warehouse stretched into darkness, stacked pallets covered in tarps, and the faint chemical smell of solvents. They swept the ground floor with flashlights. Empty. The manufacturing equipment—vats, tubing, drying racks—was still warm to the touch, but the operators were gone.

"Looks like they got word," Park Jingseok muttered.

They moved deeper. At the far end, a small office with a desk and a chair. Two men in cheap suits sat playing cards, feet up on a crate.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them said, dropping his hand.

Li Tian opened his mouth to answer, but a hissing sound came from above. A canister rolled between them, venting a cloud of sweet-smelling gas. Both men swayed and collapsed before they could even cover their faces.

The thugs laughed. "Pathetic. Boss said to dump the product on anyone snooping around." One of them knelt, pried Li Tian's mouth open, and poured a vial of thick green liquid down his throat. The other did the same to Park Jingseok. "Two hours, and their dicks'll blow like firecrackers."

The second thug grinned. "Strong stuff. Let's finish the card game."

A shadow moved behind them. Yi Ke'er had slipped through a gap in the wall and crept up silent as a cat. She brought a pipe down on the first thug's head. He crumpled. The second spun, but she was faster—a kick to his knee, a sweep, and she pinned him on his stomach, his arm twisted behind his back.

"Talk!" she hissed. "What did you give them?"

The thug grunted, face pressed into concrete. "That... that's a special batch. Makes a man's cock go rock-hard in ten minutes. If it doesn't go soft in two hours, it explodes and he dies. That's the only cure."

Yi Ke'er tightened her grip. "And the gas? How long are they out?"

"Four hours! I swear!"

A bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Then the thug yelled, "Defense protocol!" A speaker crackled overhead. The ceiling panel slid open, and a robotic arm descended, a pistol grip clattering into its mechanical hand. It aimed at Yi Ke'er.

She dove behind a stack of crates. The first shot rang out—a bullet pinged off metal. The thug she'd knocked out stirred, and the arm tracked the movement. A second shot. A third. The unconscious thug jerked and went still.

The pinned thug tried to scramble away. "No, no, stop! I'm on your side!" But the arm's last shot caught him square in the chest. He collapsed.

Silence. Yi Ke'er peeked out. Li Tian and Park Jingseok lay untouched, the robot's focus having been on the moving targets. The arm retracted with a grinding whir and went dead.

She dragged both men to the car, grunting under their dead weight. Her arms ached by the time she got them belted into the back seat. She started the engine and floored it.

Halfway down the rural road, the engine coughed and sputtered. The fuel light flickered. She pulled over into a copse of trees, hidden from the road by thick underbrush. "Damn it," she muttered, checking the trunk. Empty cans. No gas station for miles.

She turned back to the men. They were both stirring in their sleep, but not from consciousness. Their trousers tented obscenely. Li Tian's bulge was prominent but modest. Park Jingseok's was monstrous—a rigid column that strained his zipper to the limit. Yi Ke'er felt a cold knot in her stomach. The thug had been telling the truth.

She scrambled to recall his words. "If it goes soft... just have to make it soft." She bit her lip. They wouldn't wake for hours. She had two hours before the drug killed them.

No choice.

She unbuttoned Li Tian's trousers first, pulled them down. His erection was nine centimeters, hard and angry. She wrapped a hand around it, started a steady rhythm. Three minutes. He moaned, arched his back, and spurted across her knuckles. The erection softened immediately. She let out a breath and moved to Park Jingseok.

She unzipped his pants and stared. Twenty-eight centimeters. Perhaps more. Thick as her wrist, veined like a roadmap, the head dark and glistening with pre-cum. The smell hit her—musky, pungent, strong enough to make her eyes water. She closed her hand around it, but she couldn't even get her fingers to meet. Her hand pumped. One minute. Five. Ten. The men lay still, but the giant cock stayed stubbornly hard. Half an hour. Forty minutes. Nothing.

She was sweating now. Panic crept in. "Come on, come on..." She adjusted her grip, tried faster, tried slower. The thing was like steel.

Park Jingseok stirred. His lips parted. In his sleep, he muttered, "Yi Ke'er... little cat... you like that?"

She slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side, but he didn't wake. The dream continued. "Give me a breast fuck, kitten... you want to?"

She looked at Li Tian, still unconscious. At the rigid monster in her hand. At the clock: one hour forty left. She closed her eyes, unbuttoned her shirt, pulled off her bra. Her breasts were large and pale, heavy in the cool night air. She lowered herself over Park Jingseok's lap, pressing the giant head between them. It was so thick that her breasts were pushed apart, the tip emerging at her chin. She began to rock, the ridges of his shaft sliding against her skin.

"More..." he whispered in his sleep. "Laugh for me... kiss the head."

She forced a smile, leaned down, pressed her lips to the glans. Then she opened her mouth and took it in. The taste was bitter, salty, hot. He groaned. "Yes... suck it... I'm going to come..."

She braced herself. A torrent of hot, thick cum flooded her mouth. She had to swallow fast to keep from spilling. Her cheeks puffed; she gulped it down. He kept pumping. It seemed endless. Finally, he shuddered and lay still. The giant erection softened in her mouth, then slipped out.

She wiped her chin, pulled her shirt back on, and checked the time. One hour fifty-five minutes gone. Just minutes left. She scrambled to the trunk and found the spare gas can under a tarp. Filled the tank. Started the engine.

On the road, Li Tian stirred first. He groaned, rubbed his head. "What... happened?"

"Gas attack," Yi Ke'er said flatly. "You're fine now."

He shifted in his seat. "My groin feels like it's been through a meat grinder. But otherwise okay."

Park Jingseok woke next, blinking. He touched his cheek. It was red and throbbing. "Who slapped me?"

"Nobody," Yi Ke'er said quickly.

"I had a dream..." he murmured, rubbing his chin. "About you, Miss Yi. It was very... vivid."

"Don't bother remembering," she snapped. "Forget about it."

Park Jingseok opened his mouth to press the matter, then caught her glare. He leaned back and stared out the window in silence, the slap mark fading slowly. The car hummed down the dark road, and the events of the night settled into a truce that none of them would ever fully voice.

A full week had passed since the last incident, and Park Jung-seok was enjoying a rare quiet morning in his branch villa. He was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, preparing ingredients for a seafood feast he had planned. A large octopus writhed in his grip, its tentacles curling and uncurling as he held it under running water.

The doorbell rang.

He wiped his hands on his apron, still clutching the octopus, and padded to the front door. "Who is it this early?" he muttered, peering through the peephole. He recognized the figure immediately. Yi Ke'er.

He opened the door with a smile that quickly faded. She stood there in a crisp white office lady outfit, holding a manila folder.

"Good morning," she said flatly. "Li Tian had to go out of town. He'll be back in three days. He asked me to deliver this document to you."

Park Jung-seok reached out to take the folder, but the octopus in his other hand chose that precise moment to release a jet of thick black ink. The inky spray splattered across Yi Ke'er's pristine white blouse and skirt, staining them in dark, splotchy patterns.

She stared down at her ruined outfit, then up at him with a look of pure exasperation. "How did this happen? Now I'm covered in this mess. I knew it—every time I run into you, something goes wrong."

Park Jung-seok's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, really! I didn't—please, come in and sit down. Let me at least clean you up."

He ushered her into the living room, gesturing to the sofa. "Just sit there and relax. I'll take care of this octopus and be right back."

He hurried into the kitchen, quickly sliced the octopus into neat rings, and arranged them on a platter. When he returned to the living room, the sofa was empty. Yi Ke'er was gone.

He shrugged. "Must have left," he said to himself. He remembered he hadn't showered the previous day after a long, sweaty shift at the gang's operations. Since the branch villa was empty except for him, he decided to take advantage of the private hot spring built behind the house.

He stripped off his trousers and underwear right there in the hallway, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked through the back door toward the steaming pool. Steam rose in lazy curls from the water's surface, and the air smelled of sulfur and herbs.

He slid the door open and stepped inside.

A shriek pierced the quiet.

Yi Ke'er was submerged in the hot spring up to her neck, her hair wet and plastered to her face. "What are you doing? I'm still soaking in here!" She scrambled to grab a long towel from the edge, wrapping it around herself as fast as she could. But her breasts were enormous, and the towel barely covered them. The edges of her dark areolas peeked out from the fabric.

Park Jung-seok immediately turned his back to her, facing the wall. "I didn't know you were still here! I thought you left!"

Yi Ke'er's voice was a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "My place is being renovated. I couldn't use the bathroom there. Ah, just get out! Now!"

Before either of them could move, the sound of a car engine rumbled outside. A black sedan pulled up near the villa's fence. Two men got out, their faces hidden behind sunglasses. They drew pistols and aimed through the gaps in the hot spring enclosure.

Gunshots rang out. Bullets chipped the stone tiles around the pool.

Yi Ke'er reacted with startling speed. She dove sideways, pulling her towel tight, as another round of bullets whizzed past her head.

Park Jung-seok didn't hesitate. He ran out of the enclosure, still wearing only his towel, and sprinted to his car parked in the driveway. He jumped in, started the engine, and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car crashed through the wooden fence, skidding to a halt near the pool.

"Get in!" he yelled.

Yi Ke'er, still wrapped in only the long towel, leaped into the passenger seat. But there was no room. She ended up straddling his lap, her bare legs pressing against his thighs.

She grabbed the steering wheel. "Let me drive. I know this car better than you do."

As she yanked the wheel, Park Jung-seok's hands were free. He pulled the seatbelt across both of them, securing her body against his chest. She stomped on the gas pedal, and the car roared forward.

The killers' sedan pursued, tires screeching.

Yi Ke'er swerved onto a side road, trying to shake them. The car hit a speed bump hard. The jolt sent Park Jung-seok's hands flying forward. He grabbed onto the first thing he could—her breasts. They were massive, soft, and completely bare beneath the damp towel.

"Let go! Stop touching me!" Yi Ke'er shouted, her face reddening.

Park Jung-seok's hands were still pressed against her chest, his fingers involuntarily squeezing. He was acutely aware of his own body now. His penis, barely covered by the thin towel, was pressing directly against her crotch. The heat from her body, the friction of their movements—he felt himself growing hard.

Slowly, his tip began to push against her wet folds. The towel had ridden up, and there was nothing between them. He slid inside her inch by inch as the car bounced over the uneven road.

Yi Ke'er gasped. She could feel his shaft entering her, growing thicker and longer with each passing second. "Ahh... mm... ooh..." A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Another speed bump. The car lurched violently. Park Jung-seok thrust deep into her.

"Ah!" she cried out, her body jerking.

They reached a crossroads. In front of them was a long, steep staircase descending hundreds of steps. There was no other way.

"Are you crazy?" Yi Ke'er muttered, but she had no choice. The killers were closing in. She aimed the car down the stairs.

The descent was brutal. The car bounced and slammed, the suspension groaning. Every jolt drove Park Jung-seok deeper into her. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back, but the rhythm was relentless. Her towel slipped off completely, and her huge breasts bounced wildly with every bump.

"Oh! Oh! Ah! Uuh!" Yi Ke'er's moans grew louder, uncontrollable. She was being fucked by the motion of the car, her hips grinding against him involuntarily.

After ten agonizing minutes, the car reached the bottom of the staircase, landing on flat ground. The killers' sedan had been left behind, unable to navigate the steps.

Park Jung-seok drove a little further into a barren field and stopped. He was breathing heavily. Yi Ke'er tried to climb off his lap, to pull his cock out of her.

He grabbed her waist tightly, holding her in place. "I can't hold it anymore! I'm going to come inside you!"

"No, don't!" she screamed, but it was too late.

He climaxed with a powerful thrust, a huge gush of thick semen flooding her insides. The orgasm seemed endless. He kept coming for a full three minutes, spurting again and again, while Yi Ke'er trembled and spasmed in his arms.

Finally, he released her. She slid off him, shaking. They both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound their ragged breathing.

Park Jung-seok received a text message. "My men chased off the killers," he said. "We can go back to the villa safely."

They drove back in silence. No one saw them enter the house, still naked and damp. They showered in separate bathrooms and changed into fresh clothes.

When they met in the living room, Park Jung-seok looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself back there."

Yi Ke'er's face was a mask of annoyance and shame. "Don't tell anyone about today. Not a word."

He met her eyes. "I swear. These secrets will go to my grave with me. No one will ever know except you and me."

She nodded curtly, then turned and walked out the door, leaving him alone with the lingering scent of sulfur and regret.