黑帮三三

The salt-tinged wind of Black Gold Island swept across the docks of Yedong City, carrying with it the clamor of commerce and the quieter hum of illicit dealings that moved beneath the surface of legitimate trade. The city sprawled along the coastline, a strange hybrid of Chinese and Korean architecture, neon signs flickering in both Hangul and Hanzi as the evening settled in like a velvet shroud.

Park Daegen stood at the edge of Pier 7, his squat, muscular frame barely reaching the height of the shipping containers stacked behind him. At 155 centimeters, he was not an imposing figure in stature, but the scars on his knuckles and the hard set of his jaw spoke of a man who had fought for every inch of respect his family's organization now commanded. His face was plain, almost ugly, with a nose that had been broken more than once and eyes that had seen too much violence to retain any softness.

Behind him, a handful of his most trusted men waited in silence, their hands resting near the concealed weapons beneath their jackets. The Daemun Group had come far from its humble beginnings as a minor Korean gang in the Chinese-Korean Cooperation Zone, but old habits of vigilance died hard.

"The ship's coming in," one of his lieutenants said, pointing toward the horizon.

Daegen squinted against the dying light. A cargo vessel emerged from the haze, its hull cutting through the dark waters with purpose. This was no ordinary shipment. This was the arrival of two figures who could determine whether the Daemun Group would rise or be crushed beneath the heel of the Japanese Jukki Group.

The ship docked with a low groan of metal against rubber bumpers. Crew members scrambled to secure the lines, and a gangplank extended to the concrete pier. Daegen straightened his jacket and stepped forward, his men parting to let him through.

Two figures descended from the deck.

The first was a woman who commanded attention without effort. Yi Meier stood at 175 centimeters, her wavy chestnut hair catching the last rays of sunlight as she moved down the gangplank with the poise of someone who had never doubted her place in the world. Her body was generous and feminine—full breasts that strained against her tailored blazer, a waist that curved inward provocatively before flaring into wide, powerful hips. She wore a cream-colored pantsuit that managed to be both professional and alluring, and her face held a warmth that softened the hard edges of her position as the eldest daughter and heir apparent of the Qinglong Gang.

Behind her, Li Qing stepped onto the pier. He was shorter than his fiancée by five centimeters, his frame lean and almost delicate compared to the muscular bulk of the dockworkers around them. There was a gentleness to his features, a scholarly quality that belied his role as the firstborn son of the Xuanwu Gang's boss. His nickname, Guiyi, followed him wherever he went—a reference to the turtle that symbolized his family's power, patient and enduring.

Daegen approached them with his hands extended, palms open in a gesture of welcome. "Welcome, both of you, to Yedong City. I am Park Daegen, acting head of the Daemun Group. I've arranged accommodations at a seaside inn for your stay."

Yi Meier took his hand first, her grip firm but brief. "Thank you, Chief Park. We appreciate the hospitality."

Li Qing nodded, his handshake lighter. "We've heard much about this city. It's our first time here."

"Then I must ensure your visit is memorable," Daegen said, forcing a smile onto his weathered face. "Please, my car is waiting."

They walked through the bustling port, past cranes lifting containers and workers shouting in a mixture of Korean and Mandarin. A black sedan waited at the edge of the parking lot, its windows tinted dark against prying eyes. Daegen opened the rear door himself, a gesture of respect he rarely offered anyone.

The drive through Yedong City was a study in contrasts. Gleaming towers of glass and steel rose alongside weathered buildings that had stood for decades. Luxury boutiques sat next to street stalls selling grilled skewers and fried dumplings. The city was a melting pot where Chinese青龙帮 and Korean Daemun Group operated side by side, where Japanese竹奇组 had recently inserted itself like a splinter beneath the skin of the underworld.

In the back seat, Yi Meier watched the city pass with sharp, assessing eyes. Li Qing leaned closer to the window, his curiosity genuine.

Daegen cleared his throat. "I know this is your first time on the island, so I'll speak plainly. The竹奇组 has been making moves. They approached several of our businesses last month, offering 'protection' at rates that would cripple us. When we refused, they firebombed our warehouse in District Seven. My father, Chief Park, confronted them and was ambushed. He's still recovering from his injuries."

Yi Meier's expression remained composed, but her eyes narrowed. "We've noticed unusual activity from the竹奇組 as well. They've been expanding their operations in the southern districts, encroaching on territory that was traditionally neutral ground."

"They want control of the entire underworld on this island," Daegen said, his voice tightening. "The Daemun Group is small, but we know the streets. We know the people. We can be valuable allies to the青龙帮 and the Xuanwu Gang. I propose a formal alliance—three families united against the Japanese threat."

Li Qing shifted in his seat. "Brother Park, I understand your concerns. The竹奇组 is aggressive, and they've clearly targeted your organization first. But the青龙帮 is still the dominant power on this island. They won't make any major moves against us without careful consideration. Perhaps we should take some time to see the city, to understand the situation firsthand before committing to anything."

Daegen's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "You're right, of course. I apologize for rushing. It's just... my father's condition weighs heavily on me."

"We'll investigate," Yi Meier said, her voice softer now. "The青龙帮 does not abandon its allies. But we must act with intelligence, not desperation."

The car turned onto a coastal road, and the ocean appeared on their left, dark and endless under the emerging stars. A modest inn came into view, its architecture blending Chinese and Korean styles with red lanterns hanging from the eaves.

"This is where you'll be staying," Daegen said as the car pulled into the driveway. "I had hoped to offer you rooms at the Grand Glass Hotel, but it's currently undergoing renovations. Once it reopens, I'll host you properly as befits guests of your station."

"Thank you, Chief Park," Yi Meier said. "This will be fine."

Daegen escorted them to the lobby, ensuring their rooms were satisfactory before taking his leave. "I'll have my driver available for you at any time. If you need anything, contact me directly."

After he left, Yi Meier and Li Qing settled into their suite. The room was spacious, with large windows overlooking the sea. A king-sized bed dominated the center of the space, draped in white linens.

Li Qing collapsed onto the bed, grabbing the remote control and flicking through the channels. The television flickered with Korean dramas and Chinese news broadcasts.

Yi Meier disappeared into the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water filled the suite. Steam curled out from beneath the door as she undressed and stepped into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged wearing a black lace ensemble that left little to the imagination. The fabric was sheer, strategic panels of transparency revealing the curves of her body. Her chestnut hair was damp, cascading over her shoulders in wet waves.

She climbed onto the bed beside Li Qing, stretching her long body with a feline grace. "Guīyī," she murmured, using his childhood nickname, her voice dropping to a husky register. "Are you going to watch television all night, or are you going to pay attention to your fiancée?"

Li Qing put down the remote, turning to face her. Despite the heat rising in his chest, he felt the familiar flutter of nervousness. They had been together since childhood, their families arranging the match when they were barely old enough to understand what it meant. But they had grown into genuine love, a rare gift in the world of organized crime.

She reached down, her fingers tracing the waistband of his pants. He felt himself stir, then wilt almost immediately as the familiar insecurity crept in. But Yi Meier's eyes held only warmth and affection as she undressed him, revealing his thin frame and the modest erection that strained upward.

Eight centimeters at full arousal. He had measured it once, in a moment of morbid curiosity, and the number had haunted him ever since.

But Yi Meier seemed not to notice or care. She lowered her head, her full lips parting as she took him into her mouth. The warmth of her tongue, the skill of her movements—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Li Qing gasped, his hands tangling in her damp hair as waves of pleasure washed through him.

After a long moment, she pulled away, positioning herself above him. She guided him to her entrance slowly, her hips descending with exquisite care. He slid inside her, but even in this position, he couldn't reach her deepest places. The angle was wrong, the length insufficient.

She began to move anyway, her rhythm steady and loving. "You feel so good," she whispered, though he knew she could not feel much. "I love you, Guīyī. I've always loved you."

He clung to her, his body overwhelmed by sensation. Five minutes passed, perhaps less. He felt the pressure building, the familiar tension coiling in his lower belly.

"Meier," he gasped, "I'm going to—"

"Go ahead," she murmured against his ear. "Let go. I'm right here."

His climax hit him like a wave crashing against the shore—brief, intense, and leaving him utterly drained. He felt his seed release inside her, thin and almost scentless, a pathetic offering compared to the passion she had given him.

Li Qing collapsed onto the pillows, his chest heaving. "Ahh... I need at least two weeks to recover after that."

Yi Meier chuckled softly, settling beside him and pulling the covers over their bodies. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering. "You worked hard. Rest now."

She curled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her ample form. Despite everything—despite his inadequacies, her generosity, the political machinations that had brought them together—in this moment, they were simply two people in love.

They fell asleep tangled in each other's arms, the sound of the ocean whispering through the open window. Whatever challenges awaited them in the morning, they would face them together. That was the promise they had made as children, and it was the promise they would keep until the end.

The two boats limped through the dark water, their engines sputtering like tired lungs. Park Dae-geun gripped the wheel of his small fishing vessel, watching the fuel gauge needle hover dangerously close to empty. Beside him, the sleek silhouette of Imeir's yacht cut through the waves, a tow line connecting them. He glanced at the rope—thick, nylon, taut with the strain of dragging his heavier, rust-bucket boat. On the yacht's deck, Imeir stood with her arms crossed, her white blouse stained with salt spray and exhaustion.

"We can't go much further," Dae-geun muttered into the radio, his thumb pressing the transmit button. "My fuel's almost gone." Static crackled before Imeir's voice came through, calm but strained.

"I'll tow you. My tank still has some reserves, but not enough for open ocean." She paused, and he heard her sigh. "We need to find land."

Dae-geun lifted his binoculars, scanning the horizon. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the waves. Then he saw it—a dark shape rising from the sea, jagged and small. He adjusted the focus. An island, barely a speck on the map, with a name he recalled from old fishing charts: Sea Serpent Island. "I got something," he called into the radio. "Small island, looks uninhabited. Called Hae-sa-do. We can make it if we push."

Imeir's reply came after a moment. "How far?"

"Maybe three kilometers. Fuel should get us there." He lowered the binoculars, his heart beating faster. "What do you think? Should we head for it?"

"Affirmative. We have no other choice. Radio Lee Cheong and tell him our plan."

They steered toward the island, the yacht's engine groaning as it pulled both vessels. The natural harbor appeared as a crescent of calm water, sheltered by rocky cliffs. Dae-geun cut his engine, letting the momentum carry his boat into the shallow bay. Imeir anchored her yacht nearby, the tow line slackening. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two boats rested side by side—the yacht towering and elegant, the fishing boat small and battered, like a giant leaning on a child for support.

Once the boats were secure, Imeir climbed onto her deck and picked up the boat's radio. She dialed Lee Cheong's frequency, and after a few seconds, his voice answered, tense and urgent.

"Imeir? Are you okay? What's your location?"

"We're safe for now," she said, glancing at Dae-geun on his boat. "We landed on Hae-sa-do, a small uninhabited island. Fuel is almost gone. We need you to send a pickup."

Lee Cheong's voice dropped. "I'm afraid it'll take a while. Jukchi Group sent their thugs to block all the fuel supply points here. I can't get a boat out until the main fleet from headquarters arrives, and that's at least three days out."

Imeir's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "So we're stuck here?"

"Not entirely. Good news—the Daemun Group sabotaged Jukchi's ships. They can't launch any more attacks from the sea for now. You and Dae-geun should be safe from that angle." He paused. "How are you two holding up?"

"We're fine. Don't worry about us. Just get here when you can." She cut the transmission without waiting for a reply, the radio falling silent.

She turned to Dae-geun, who was stepping off his boat onto the small strip of beach. "Three days," he said, his voice flat.

"Three days," she repeated. She climbed down from her yacht and joined him on the sand. "Let's make the most of it."

They walked inland, following a narrow path that had clearly been unused for years. Tall grass and wild bushes encroached on both sides, brushing against their legs. The path led to a small clearing where a single, dilapidated house stood—wooden walls weathered to gray, roof caved in in one corner, windows empty and dark. Dae-geun pushed open the creaking door, and they peered inside. Dust covered the floor, and a few broken pieces of furniture lay scattered about. No signs of recent life.

"Looks like no one's been here in a long time," Imeir said, stepping inside. She brushed cobwebs from her shoulder.

"Just us," Dae-geun replied, his eyes scanning the room.

They spent the afternoon gathering firewood and exploring the island. Imeir had changed into the only clothes she had left—a simple white shirt and a black skirt that clung to her hips. By nightfall, they had a small fire crackling on the beach, flames casting flickering shadows on their faces. The stars came out, bright and countless in the dark sky.

They sat side by side, the fire warming their tired bodies. Dae-geun poked at the embers with a stick, while Imeir stared into the flames. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft.

"Why did you come for me? You could have gone with Lee Cheong in the same direction. You didn't have to save me."

Dae-geun looked at her, his face earnest in the firelight. "I knew the Jukchi Group would want you dead to weaken the Cheongryong Clan. I know those bastards too well. I had to protect you." He paused, his throat tightening. "And honestly, I feel something for you. I've always felt something."

Before he could finish, Imeir leaned in and kissed him. It started gentle, her lips pressing against his, but it quickly deepened. He tasted salt and smoke, and her mouth opened, hungry and desperate. She kissed him with a fervor that surprised them both—her tongue sliding against his, her hands gripping his shoulders. The kiss lasted long, minutes stretching into an eternity, and when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Imeir's eyes were wet.

"I've spent my whole life trying to be composed for the sake of the Clan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Lee Cheong has loved me since we were kids, and I always took care of him, protected him. He sees me as a romantic partner, but I see him as a younger brother. I knew I had to marry him—it was the only way to prove the alliance between the Cheongryong and Hyeonmu Clans." She looked down at her hands. "But you—you're the only one who ever made me feel like I'm worth protecting. Like I'm not just the leader of a gang. I think I like you, Park Dae-geun. But I've been suppressing it. I—I—"

"I know," Dae-geun interrupted, his voice firm. "And that's what I love about you. Even if you marry Lee Cheong, I don't care. I just want you to have a place in your heart that isn't just for the Clan and Lee Cheong. I want you to love me, even if it's secret. I love you, Imeir—the woman boss of the Cheongryong Clan. I love you."

Her doubt melted away. She stood up, her hands moving to the buttons of her shirt. One by one, she unfastened them, letting the white fabric fall to the sand. Then her skirt dropped, pooling at her feet. In the firelight, her body was pale and proud, her large breasts full and heavy, her skin glistening. She turned and walked toward the abandoned house, her steps slow and deliberate. At the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder, a silent invitation.

"If you truly love me," she said, her voice a low rasp, "then show me what a man's resolve looks like."

Dae-geun rose, his heart pounding. He felt his own erection strain against his pants as he followed her into the darkness of the broken house.

Inside, the night air was thick with dust and longing. The firelight leaked through the gaps in the walls, casting fractured orange streaks across the floor. Imeir knelt on a pile of old blankets Dae-geun had dragged from the yacht. He came to her, his body shadowed, and they kissed again, fierce and raw. His hands found her breasts, cupping them, feeling their weight, while she moaned against his mouth.

He turned her around, pressing her hands against the wall. She braced herself, her back arched, as he entered her from behind. She gasped at the size of him, her body straining to accommodate his length. He held her hips, thrusting deep and hard, each motion filled with years of unspoken desire. She turned her head and kissed him, her lips brushing against his. He reached around, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, gripping her breasts with rough tenderness.

Her hand reached back, clutching his neck, while the other pulled at her own buttocks, spreading herself wider for him. "It's so big," she whispered, a mix of pain and pleasure in her voice.

Thirty minutes of relentless passion, the sounds of their bodies echoing through the decrepit room. Dae-geun groaned as he reached his peak, and hot, thick semen flooded into her. Imeir shuddered, her body convulsing under the heat of his release. The ejaculation seemed to last forever, three minutes of pulsing warmth that left her weak-kneed, her moans turning into small cries of ecstasy.

When it ended, she sank to her knees, breathing hard. But she wasn't done. She looked up at him with a devious smile, her lips glistening. Without a word, she took his still-erect shaft into her mouth, her tongue working with love and skill. He hardened again immediately, showing no sign of fatigue. She sucked him with fervor, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deep, her eyes locked on his with pure adoration.

The second round began—even more intense than the first. An hour later, after the third round had left them both drenched in sweat, Dae-geun scooped Imeir into his arms.

"We're taking this to the boat," he said, his voice husky.

He carried her across the beach, her legs wrapped around his waist, her mouth never leaving his face—kissing his cheek, his neck, his lips. She whispered his name between kisses. He boarded his small fishing vessel, laid her down on the deck, and entered her again. The boat began to rock on the gentle waves, its motion adding to their rhythm. Her cries of pleasure mixed with laughter, joy spilling from her lips.

All night they loved, round after round, until the sky began to lighten. By morning, they had made love more than a dozen times, exhausted and happy, their bodies tangled together on the small cot in the cabin.

Dae-geun woke at ten o'clock to the smell of food. He blinked, the morning sun streaming through the cabin window. Imeir stood in the doorway, holding a tray of fruits and bread she had brought from her yacht. She was dressed again in her white shirt and black skirt, her hair mussed, her smile soft and warm.

She walked to him, leaned down, and kissed him on the forehead. "Wake up, lazy bones. The sun's about to burn your ass white."

He grinned, reaching up to touch her face. "Good morning."

She set the tray down beside him, her eyes full of something new—something that said *I'm yours*.

The radio crackled to life, Li Qing’s voice cutting through the static. “Yimeier, listen to me. My ship needs half the paperwork before it can set sail. Can you wait another five days?”

Yimeier’s response came muffled, broken between wet sounds. “Mmh… mmh… boh mmh hao ah…”

Li Qing frowned at the odd tone. “Huh? What are you eating in your mouth?”

Yimeier froze, suddenly aware of what she was doing—her lips wrapped around Pudgean’s hard length as he sat on her yacht’s leather chair. She scrambled for a lie, her voice breathy but forced calm. “Ah, it’s like this—I’m eating an ice pop on my yacht. I can’t stop, it’ll melt. I’ll just talk while I eat.”

Li Qing bought it without suspicion. “Oh, I see. Do you have enough supplies?”

“Mmh… ngh… slurp… mmh, that big…” Yimeier’s words came between strokes of her tongue, her hand steadying his shaft. “Ah, right, the supplies are big. I mean they’re plenty enough.”

They talked for several more minutes—weather, fuel, docking plans. Each time Yimeier answered, her mouth full and working, Li Qing heard nothing but the occasional wet noise and dismissed it as ice pop drips. Finally, satisfied, he signed off. “Alright, take care.”

Yimeier let out a long breath, tossing the radio aside. She looked up at Pudgean, who grinned down at her, his hand threading through her hair.

“Ice pop?” he teased.

She slapped his thigh. “Shut up.”

The desert island stretched around them—white sand, palm trees, the gentle lap of turquoise waves. In the days that followed, they roamed its beaches like castaways who had no desire to be rescued. They sat together at sunset, his arm around her waist, her bare feet buried in warm sand. Pudgean cracked open a coconut with a sharp rock, drank the milk in deep gulps, then turned and took her breast into his mouth without a word. She moaned, pulling him closer.

Yimeier found herself giving in to everything. She loved him now—truly, fiercely—and he loved her back. She let him do what he wanted, her hand always straying to his crotch, stroking him idly while they lay tangled on a blanket. They made love in the dunes, the sand sticking to their sweaty skin. They moved to the bow of her enormous yacht, her back against the railing as he took her under the stars. At night they kissed with salt on their lips. They bathed together in the onboard shower, soapy and giggling.

“You’re terrible,” she said, pushing at his chest, her voice a spoiled whine. “You never stop.”

He bit her shoulder. “You don’t want me to.”

She changed into a white one-piece bikini, simple but clinging to every curve. She emerged onto the deck, striking a pose. “Well? Do you like it?”

He scooped her up in a princess carry before she could react. She shrieked with excitement, laughing as he carried her back to the cabin.

They were inseparable. Days blurred.

Then Li Qing arrived with a refueling boat, horn blaring across the horizon. Yimeier and Pudgean went to meet him, their expressions professional, their body language neutral. Nothing seemed off. Yimeier stepped forward and kissed Li Qing on the cheek. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

Pudgean clapped Li Qing’s shoulder with warm gratitude. “I thought I was going to be a wild man forever, brother Li. Man, I’m so glad you came. Finally, I can go home.”

The three of them laughed together. No one would have guessed.

A month later, Li Qing and Yimeier were married in a grand ceremony. The union sealed the friendship between the Azure Dragon Gang and the Black Tortoise Gang, two families bound by blood and legacy. The hall glittered with lanterns, flowers, and the murmur of powerful men and women.

Pudgean approached Yimeier, who stood radiant in her wedding gown—white lace, a train that pooled at her feet, her face glowing. He smiled. “Congratulations. And… you look stunning in that dress.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

The reception ended. As custom demanded, Li Qing was to escort his bride home. But a call came in—trouble at a Black Tortoise branch, urgent. He turned to the only man he trusted completely. “Pudgean, could you drive her back for me? I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

Pudgean nodded. “Of course.”

He drove a sleek black car, Yimeier in the back seat still in her wedding dress, the white fabric pooling on the leather. The road wound through empty countryside, fields of reeds on either side. Pudgean checked the rearview mirror, saw no headlights behind them, and turned the wheel sharply. The car bumped off the pavement onto a dirt track, hidden by tall grass, pulling to a stop in a secluded patch of marshland.

Before she could ask, he was already climbing into the back seat. The car began to rock.

“Ah,” Pudgean breathed, his hands on the delicate lace. “You look so beautiful in this wedding dress. Stunning.”

Yimeier’s voice was breathless, almost giddy. “You like it?”

“Love it.”

An hour passed before they drove home.

Days later, Li Qing and Yimeier had lunch at a city café, a couple in love—he holding her hand, she laughing at his jokes. No one who saw them doubted their happiness. The secret between Yimeier and Pudgean was buried deep, a jewel kept in a locked chest with no key.

That evening, Yimeier dressed in a daring red gown, slit high on the thigh, the fabric plunging low to reveal the generous curve of her breasts. Black lace of a silk stocking peeked through the slit with every step. Her hair fell loose and glossy.

Li Qing looked up from his phone. “Dressed so formally? Where are you going?”

“Oh,” she said, smoothing the fabric. “The Gate Gang is celebrating their 40th anniversary tonight. I was invited.”

Li Qing smiled, ever trusting. “Alright. Be careful.”

She kissed his forehead. “Always.”

Under the Wöger’s Five-Star Hotel, in a secret banquet hall, Pudgean waited. They rushed into each other’s arms, mouths meeting in a deep kiss. The bed in the private suite held them for five hours straight.

“Don’t leave yet,” she murmured against his chest.

He growled, rolling her over. “Tonight I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk.”

She grinned, eyes dark. “That’s more like it.”

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then answered, her voice shifting instantly—cool, authoritative, the boss. “Yeah? Oh, it’s you, Second Sister. What’s wrong? Nobody picked you up at the pier?”

Pudgean whispered in her ear, “I can have my younger brother, Pudgean-sook, pick her up. What’s her name?”

“I Ke’er,” she said softly, then back into the phone: “Hold on, I’ll send someone.”

He made a quick call. His brother would handle it. Then he turned back to Yimeier, and the world outside dissolved.

Neither Pudgean-sook nor I Ke’er knew what happened behind closed doors. They saw only gang leaders, business associates, friendly comrades. I Ke’er believed her sister was happily married to Li Qing. Pudgean-sook had no reason to suspect his brother’s private life.

So ends this chapter of Yimeier and Pudgean.

The next belongs to I Ke’er, Li Tianhe, and Pudgean-sook—but that is a story for another time.

The sun hung low over the black-gold island of Ye-dong, casting long shadows across the grimy docks. Park Jung-seok sat in the driver's seat of his black sedan, engine idling, his squat, muscular frame barely contained by the leather upholstery. At just 158 centimeters, he made up for his lack of height with a dense, stocky build—thick shoulders, a neck like a bull, and arms corded with wiry muscle. His face was plain, almost homely, with a nose that sat slightly crooked and eyes that held a perpetual leer. He checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes.

His phone buzzed. He grunted and answered.

"Hyung-nim," came the voice of one of his junior gang members, eager and sycophantic. "I found her. The one I told you about. A real piece of work—young, tight, and she knows how to please."

Jung-seok sighed, already annoyed. "I told you, I'm busy today. I've got to pick someone up at the dock. It's important. Orders from my brother."

"Ah, but that's the thing, hyung-nim," the junior pressed on. "She's at the dock too. Works one of the bars nearby. All you gotta do is take a look. Quick glance. If you don't like her, no harm done."

Jung-seok hesitated. The ferry from the mainland wasn't due for at least another forty minutes. What was the harm in a quick look? He imagined a girl warming his bed while he finished his official duties. A nice reward after a job well done.

"Fine. I'll take a look. But if she's ugly, you're cleaning the toilets for a month."

He killed the engine and stepped out, adjusting his jacket over his broad chest. The sea breeze carried the stench of fish and diesel. He walked along the quay, scanning the few people milling about—dockworkers, a couple of sailors, an old woman selling dried squid. And then he saw her.

She stood near the edge of the pier, her figure backlit by the setting sun. She was tall—much taller than him, at least 176 centimeters. Her hair was long, black, and straight as a waterfall, cascading down her back. She wore a black qipao with a high slit that parted to reveal a long, shapely leg encased in black silk. The dress was cut in the northern style, leaving the entire upper chest bare, and her breasts strained against the fabric as if they might burst free at any moment. Her face was striking—high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to cut straight through you. They were focused, sharp, almost predatory.

Jung-seok's mouth went dry. *This must be the one the kid was talking about.* He couldn't believe his luck. He walked up to her, confidence swelling in his chest.

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "You're here," she said. "I was starting to wonder if you'd—"

He raised a finger and pressed it gently against her lips, silencing her. "I know you've been waiting for me. And I've been waiting too." He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "But here's the thing, darling—I've got another job to do tonight. A meeting I can't miss. So here's what I propose." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key attached to a small brass fob. "This is the address of my second division headquarters. It's not really a headquarters—it's just my private villa. Big place, all to myself. You go there, make yourself at home. Pour a drink. Take a shower. I'll be along once I'm done here."

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. He took her silence as acceptance. He slipped the key into the small handbag she carried, then looped an arm around her shoulder. She felt solid, sturdy, nothing like the fragile girls he usually handled.

Encouraged, he let his hand slide down, palm cupping her breast through the silk. It was full and firm.

Her reaction was instant. Her hand shot up, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it with a violence that sent a sharp crack echoing across the dock.

Jung-seok screamed, dropping to his knees as pain lanced up his arm. "Yah! What the hell? That's too much! Even if you don't want to provide service, you don't have to break my hand!"

She released him and stepped back, her voice cold as the sea. "I am Yi Ke'er, of the Qinglong Gang. This is the first time anyone has dared to treat me with such vulgar disrespect. I should leave you with a lasting reminder."

Jung-seok's face went pale. "Yi Ke'er? You're the second-in-command of the Qinglong? Yi Mei'er's sister?" He scrambled to his feet, cradling his aching wrist. "I'm Park Jung-seok—second-in-command of the Daemun Gang, under my brother Park Dae-geun. I was sent here to greet you. My brother told me to treat you with the utmost respect. I thought you were... someone else."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Someone else? A prostitute, you mean?"

He had the decency to look ashamed. "A misunderstanding. A complete misunderstanding. I am, in fact, a very respectable gentleman. Please, don't let this reflect poorly on our gang's honor."

Just then, a flustered young man came running down the dock, dragging a garishly dressed woman by the arm. The woman was drenched in cheap perfume, her face caked with powder and rouge, her dress a tacky shade of red.

"Hyung-nim! I'm so sorry," the junior panted. "She got lost on the way. But I brought her, just like you asked. Look at this one—isn't she a beauty? Want me to take her back to your villa?"

Jung-seok squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. He could feel Yi Ke'er's gaze boring into the back of his head.

"So," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "this is the kind of 'respectable gentleman' you are?"

He didn't answer. He just turned, grabbed the junior by the collar, and hissed through gritted teeth, "Get her out of my sight. Now."

The junior, terrified, dragged the bewildered woman away.

Yi Ke'er walked past him and opened the passenger door of his sedan. "Let's go. Take me to the private seaside villa the Qinglong prepared for me."

"Yes. Of course. Right away." He hurried around to the driver's side, got in, and started the engine without another word.

As they drove through the darkening streets, he kept his eyes fixed ahead, his hands gripping the wheel. "I want to apologize again for the misunderstanding," he said stiffly. "It was not my intention to insult you or the Qinglong. I hope this does not affect the relationship between our gangs."

She did not look at him. She simply stared out the window, a faint, knowing smile on her lips. "We shall see."

Jung-seok swallowed hard and pressed the accelerator, desperate to put the whole shameful affair behind him.

Three days later, Park Jingseok arrived at the second branch of the Xuanwu Gang on the island. He stepped inside the modest two-story building and found Li Tian, the second son of Li Qing's younger brother—one of the many sons of the previous Xuanwu Gang boss. Li Tian was a twenty-seven-year-old Chinese man, standing at 170 centimeters with a lean build. He sat behind a cluttered desk, looking up as Park entered.

"Li Tian, Second-in-Command," Park said with a casual nod. "You've only been on the island a week. Getting used to it? Looks like you and I are in the same boat—each of us stuck alone in a branch office."

Li Tian gave a small smile. "Ah, you're wrong there. It's two of us now. My fiancée came with me."

Park's eyebrows rose. "Is that right? Which woman managed to catch the heart of Xuanwu Gang's number two man?"

Before Li Tian could answer, footsteps sounded from the staircase. A woman in a sleek olive-green business suit descended, her face lighting up with a sweet smile as she called out, "Darling, look what I found. Isn't this cat adorable?"

The woman was Yike'er. Her expression froze when she spotted Park Jingseok. In an instant, the warm, playful look vanished, replaced by a sharp, haughty glare. She straightened her blouse and said coolly, "Well, well. If it isn't Park Jingseok, the second-in-command of the Dàmén Gang."

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

Yike'er's lips curled into a malicious smile. "I was just about to say, darling, that I already know where the Dàmén Gang's second branch is. No need for a guided tour. Isn't that right, Mr. Park?"

Park Jingseok's face tightened. He glanced around the room as if admiring the ceiling, the wallpaper, the doorframe—anything but her eyes. "Mm," he muttered noncommittally.

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

Yike'er waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing important. Just a trivial matter. It's fine."

Li Tian studied her for a moment, then decided not to push. If she said it was nothing, it was nothing. He trusted her.

Park Jingseok turned abruptly and headed for the door. As he stepped outside, he cast a backward glance. Seeing Yike'er and Li Tian exchange a soft kiss on the cheek, he felt a surge of irritation. He stuck out his tongue, made a rude face, and called back, "Stupid woman! Nyeh nyeh nyeh!"

Yike'er's cheeks flushed with anger. She let out a frustrated sigh, then a defiant "Hmph!" as she turned away. Li Tian shook his head helplessly, catching the tension between them but choosing not to intervene.

After Park left, Yike'er and Li Tian retreated upstairs to their private quarters. The moment the door closed, Yike'er transformed. She pressed herself against Li Tian, nuzzling his neck like an affectionate cat. Her lips found his, soft and insistent, and she kissed him deeply, coaxing a response. Her hands moved down, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers off. Without hesitation, she knelt and took him into her mouth. His erection emerged—about nine centimeters. She didn't mind. She pressed her ample breasts against it, enveloping him completely in her cleavage. The tip disappeared into the soft valley.

Li Tian gasped as she began to move. Her body swayed with wild abandon, her hips rocking against him. Within six minutes, he climaxed. The release was weak, the spurts short and low, barely reaching inside her. If he wanted to get her pregnant, it would take many, many attempts. The chance of fertilizing an egg was slim.

Li Tian collapsed onto the bed, breathless, his muscles limp. He lay there, unable to move, needing a long rest to recover. Yike'er curled beside him, stroking his cheek. "You did your best," she whispered. "Next time, try harder." She planted a loving kiss on his cheek, then nestled against him, content.

Two days later, Yike'er stood at the gate of Park Jingseok's second branch villa. She knocked. When Park opened the door and saw her, his face soured instantly. "Well, well. What wind blew you here? A bad wind, I'm sure." His teeth ground together.

Yike'er remained composed, a confident smirk on her lips. "I wanted to see what kind of savage cave the great Park Jingseok lives in."

"Where's your fiancé Li Tian?" Park asked, crossing his arms.

"He's busy. I'm just taking a quick look around, then I'll leave."

"Excuse me. I need the bathroom." Park turned and walked to the restroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone and dialed his elder brother, Park Dagen.

"Brother, what are you thinking? I've got a troublesome woman on my hands now, you know that?"

On the other end, Park Dagen was letting Yimei'er give him a blowjob. The slick sounds of her mouth moved around his massive erection. "Ooh, comfortable. Brother, don't take it so hard. Treat it as training. As your elder brother, I order you to control your temper. Ooh... ooh..."

Park Jingseok frowned. "Why are you making weird noises?"

"Uh... I'm doing muscle exercises. Grunting is normal. Ooh... ooh... ahh. I'm busy now. Gotta go." The line went dead.

Park Jingseok shook his head. "Weird habit," he muttered, and bought the lie.

Meanwhile, Yike'er had dialed her sister, Yimei'er. "Hey, big sis. How are you and Brother Li Qing? Congratulations on your marriage. By the way, I ran into Park Jingseok a few days ago. That man makes me furious. He did something awful to me. I hate him. He's disgusting."

On the other end, Yimei'er was deep-throating Park Dagen's enormous shaft. "Mmm... mmm... *pop*. Little sister, you're an adult now. How you judge a person shouldn't be one-sided... mmm... so big!"

"What's so big?" Yike'er asked.

Yimei'er quickly covered. "Nothing. I'm eating a popsicle. It's a bit... mmm... *pop*. Big! This popsicle is really big!"

Yike'er assumed her sister was honestly enjoying a frozen treat. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

In the bathroom, Park Jingseok finished his call and washed his hands. He stared at his reflection, wondering how his life had tangled with that woman again. He took a deep breath, then stepped back out to deal with Yike'er.

Ekor continued her tour of Park Jeong-seok’s villa, moving from room to room with an air of casual curiosity. She had already noted the expensive furniture, the cold minimalist décor that screamed money but no warmth, and the complete absence of anything that suggested a woman’s touch. When she finally pushed open the door to his bedroom, she stopped dead in the doorway and let out a short, sharp laugh.

The room was a disaster. Clothes lay crumpled on the floor in small piles. A half-empty cup of what looked like old coffee sat on the nightstand, a ring of brown residue staining the wood. The bedsheets were twisted and tangled, one corner dragging on the carpet. Empty snack wrappers peeked out from under the desk. The whole place smelled faintly of stale air and neglect.

“Oh my God,” Ekor said, her voice dripping with a blend of disappointment and amusement. She stepped inside, nudging a discarded sock with the toe of her heel. “You live like this?”

Park Jeong-seok followed her in, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” She turned to face him, one eyebrow arched high. “Busy doing what? Learning how to be a bigger slob? Because you’ve mastered it.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she was already shaking her head. Without another word, she set her handbag down on a clean corner of the dresser, rolled up the loose sleeves of her silk blouse, and began picking up the scattered clothes.

“I’m only doing this once,” she said, her tone brisk as she sorted a shirt from a pair of trousers. “There won’t be a second time. Honestly, you should get your girlfriend or wife to handle this mess. But then again,” she added, glancing over her shoulder with a sly smile, “I look at you and I don’t see a guy who’s got women lining up. That’s why you had your little lackey call a prostitute for you, isn’t it?”

Park Jeong-seok’s face flushed. “Come on, give me a break. I already said I was sorry about that. I thought you were someone else.”

Ekor shrugged, folding a jacket with practiced precision. “Oh, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad at a poor, pathetic single man who has to pay for company? It’s almost sad enough to make me feel sorry for you.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t actually go through with it. The whole hooker thing was my first time. And it failed. I’m still a—”

She paused and looked at him curiously. “A what?”

He let out an irritated huff. “I’m still a virgin, all right! I would have been done with it if I hadn’t mistaken you for someone else. Go ahead, laugh. I know it’s funny.”

Ekor straightened up slowly. She did not laugh. Her expression softened into something thoughtful and genuine.

“No,” she said quietly. “I won’t laugh at that. Honestly, Park Jeong-seok, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a man staying a virgin until he finds someone he truly loves. I wouldn’t mock someone for that.”

He blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. For a moment, he saw her differently. This was the second-in-command of the Cheongryong Faction. There was a dignity to her that he hadn’t fully appreciated until now.

Then she tilted her head, and a wicked grin spread across her face. “That said, I’m not sure you’ll ever get out of being single in this lifetime. But it’s not nice to laugh at a loser, and I do have manners.”

The respect he had just felt crumbled instantly. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He said nothing, turning away and dropping onto the sofa in the corner with a grumpy thud.

Ekor ignored him and continued cleaning. She stripped the bed with efficient movements, shook out the sheets, and remade it with sharp, neat corners. She gathered the trash, wiped down the nightstand, and opened the window to let in fresh air. Her focus was absolute, every movement deliberate and graceful.

Park Jeong-seok’s irritation faded as he watched her. He didn’t mean to stare, but he found it hard to look away. The way she moved, the concentration in her eyes, the slight furrow of her brow as she worked—there was something intensely captivating about it.

And then there was her body. At 176 centimeters tall, she commanded the room with her presence alone. Her long, jet-black hair fell straight and glossy past her shoulders like a curtain of silk. As she bent over to pick up a stray magazine, the neckline of her blouse gaped slightly. He saw the deep, pale valley between her full breasts, a curve of flawless skin that seemed impossibly smooth and inviting. His breath caught.

“Beautiful…” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

Ekor straightened and looked at him. “What did you say?”

He shook his head quickly, his ears reddening. “Nothing. I talk to myself sometimes. Don’t mind me.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press. She went back to her work, and he stayed on the sofa, stewing in his own embarrassment.

Thirty minutes later, the room was spotless. The bed was made, the floor clear, the surfaces gleaming. Ekor put her hands on her hips and surveyed her work with satisfaction.

“There,” she said. “Now it looks like a human lives here, not a caveman.”

Park Jeong-seok stood and walked her to the front door. Outside, the evening air was cool and still. He hesitated at the threshold, then spoke.

“Miss Ekor, I really hope our misunderstanding doesn’t damage the relationship between Daemun and Cheongryong. My brother made it very clear that I’m supposed to stay on good terms with you. For the sake of both factions, I hope you can—”

Ekor turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable. “What about you?” she asked. “Not the faction. Not your brother. You. Do you think Daemun and Cheongryong can work together? I asked about the business, but I want to know what you think personally. Can you stay friendly with me? More importantly, do you want to? I want to hear your own answer.”

Park Jeong-seok was silent for a long moment. He stared at her, at the way the fading light caught the edges of her silhouette, at the intelligence and confidence in her gaze. Something in him shifted.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “I think you’re really attractive. I might even like you a little. Would you be willing to—”

“Whoa, whoa, stop right there.” Ekor cut him off, raising both hands like a traffic cop. “I think you’ve misunderstood something. I came here today to be polite, to show Cheongryong’s stance. That’s all. I don’t have any feelings for you in that direction.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I can wait. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She shook her head firmly. “No, you won’t. And don’t wait. You know why. I already belong to someone else. I’m engaged. My fiancé is Ri-cheon. He hangs out with you all the time, he’s your good friend. My God, did he really never tell you about me?”

The color drained from Park Jeong-seok’s face. His mouth opened, then closed. The sinking realization hit him like a truck.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “I just confessed to my buddy’s woman. I was about to ask her to come back inside with me, sleep with me, have eight or ten kids, settle down for life—”

He was rambling, speaking his thoughts out loud without realizing it. Ekor heard every word.

She was silent for a beat.

Then her hand moved fast and sharp. A loud crack echoed in the quiet evening as her palm connected squarely with his cheek. A red handprint bloomed across his skin like a brand.

Without a word, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

“I’m sorry!” Park Jeong-seok shouted after her, his voice cracking. “I know I deserved that! At least I was honest!”

Ekor stopped. She didn’t turn around fully, only tilting her head so he could see the edge of her profile.

“Yeah,” she said. “You did deserve it. Expecting something like that from a woman like me? You had it coming. But I’ll give you this much—you’re honest. Is there anything else you want to say?”

He walked forward a few steps and bowed deeply from the waist, a gesture of genuine respect.

“Since Miss Ekor and I have no fate in that direction,” he said, his voice steady now, “I’d like to work toward friendship between our factions. And personally, I want to earn your respect. That’s my new goal.”

Ekor turned fully, her expression softened into a confident smile. “Then you’d better work hard to impress me,” she said. “I’ll be watching. Show me what you’ve got.”

She turned again, humming a cheerful tune as she walked away, her long black hair swaying with each step. Park Jeong-seok watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his cheek still stinging, his thoughts tangled and strange.

The night settled in. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. The story was far from over.

The warehouse loomed in the industrial district like a forgotten tomb, its corrugated metal walls rusted and streaked with grime. Li Tian killed the engine of the sedan about fifty meters out, letting the vehicle roll to a stop behind a stack of discarded shipping pallets. He turned to Park Jingseok in the passenger seat, then glanced at Yi Ke'er in the back.

"Information says the Yamagata-gumi might be cooking something here," Li Tian said, his voice low. "Pharmaceuticals bound for overseas markets. If we can torch their operation, it'll hit their wallet hard."

Park Jingseok cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

Yi Ke'er leaned forward, her dark eyes sharp. "I'll stay with the car, keep the engine warm. Radio if you need backup."

Li Tian nodded, then he and Park slipped out, moving low and fast toward the warehouse's side entrance. The door was unlocked—too easy. They pushed inside, flashlights cutting through the dim interior. Row after row of chemical drums lined the walls, but the place felt hollow. Dust motes swirled in the beam of light. No voices. No machinery hum.

"Empty," Park muttered, kicking at a discarded syringe on the concrete floor. "They pulled out."

"Or we walked into a setup," Li Tian said, scanning the shadows.

From behind a stack of crates, two figures emerged. Thugs in cheap suits, grinning with yellowed teeth. One of them held a canister, and before Li Tian could react, a hissing cloud of gas enveloped them. The world tilted. Li Tian's knees buckled. He saw Park crumple beside him, then darkness swallowed everything.

When Yi Ke'er's watch hit ten minutes, she frowned. No word from them. She grabbed her pistol, slipped out of the car, and crept to the warehouse. The side door was ajar. She slid through, hugging the wall.

She found them on the floor—Li Tian and Park, unconscious. Two thugs hovered over them. One was forcing a vial of dark liquid into Li Tian's mouth. The other held a similar vial to Park's lips.

"Two hours," one thug laughed. "Then their dicks will explode. Best poison we found last year."

Yi Ke'er didn't hesitate. She sprang forward, slammed the butt of her pistol into the first thug's skull. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The second thug spun, but she swept his legs, drove him to the ground, knelt on his back, and twisted his arm into a lock.

"Talk!" she snarled, pressing the pistol against his temple. "What did you give them?"

The thug whimpered. "It's a drug we found. Men take it, and after ten minutes their cock won't stop getting hard. Two hours later it bursts. They die. Unless it goes soft."

"That's absurd," Yi Ke'er said, grinding her knee into his spine. "How did they pass out? Tell me the truth!"

"Just a special gas we cook up. They'll be out for four hours."

Yi Ke'er's attention flickered for a split second. The thug seized the moment.

"Activate defense!" he screamed.

A voice-activated system hummed to life. A panel in the ceiling slid open, and a robotic arm with a mounted submachine gun extended downward, swiveling toward Yi Ke'er. She dove behind a stack of barrels as bullets chewed through the concrete where she'd stood.

The first thug, still groggy, tried to crawl away. The robotic arm tracked him. A burst of fire caught him in the chest. He went still.

The second thug, the one Yi Ke'er had pinned, saw his chance. He scrambled to his feet, heading for the exit. The robotic arm jerked, its targeting system glitching. One last shot rang out. The thug's head snapped back, and he collapsed in a heap.

The arm's mechanism whined, then died. Silence.

Yi Ke'er rushed to Li Tian and Park. They were breathing, but dead weight. She dragged them one by one to the car, muscles screaming, then gunned the engine away from the warehouse.

Halfway back, the fuel gauge needle dipped to empty. The car sputtered, died. She coasted into a small wooded patch off the road, hidden by overhanging branches.

She turned to check on them. Her breath caught.

Both men had visible bulges straining against their pants. The outlines unmistakable—erections, fierce and unrelenting.

"The drug," she whispered. "It's real."

She remembered the thug's words: soft and they live. But they'd be out for four hours. Two hours to live.

There was no other choice.

She unbuttoned Li Tian's pants first. His penis, about nine centimeters, stood stiff and rigid, harder than she'd ever seen it. Then Park's. She pulled down his zipper and gasped. Twenty-eight centimeters, maybe more. Thick as her wrist, iron-hard, veins pulsing, with a strong, musky odor that hit her nostrils.

The contrast was stark.

She took a breath, then wrapped one hand around Li Tian's shaft, the other around Park's. She began to stroke, fast and rhythmic, hoping to make them ejaculate, to soften them. Her mind raced. This was insane.

Li Tian came in under three minutes. A thin spurt. But his penis remained semi-hard, still dangerous.

Park didn't. He stayed rock solid. She pumped, changed grips, twisted. Nothing.

Forty minutes passed. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was still working Park's massive shaft, but it wouldn't relent. Her wrist ached.

Then Park stirred. His eyes half-opened, glazed. He was still dreaming under the gas.

"Yi Ke'er..." he mumbled. "You little kitten... give me a breast job."

She slapped his cheek hard. The red mark bloomed. He didn't wake. He just smirked in his sleep.

"Yi Ke'er... aren't you going to serve me?"

She looked at Li Tian, still unconscious. She looked at Park's monstrous erection.

"No other way," she muttered.

She stripped off her top and bra. Her enormous breasts, pale and full, swung free. She knelt over Park, lowered herself, pressing her breasts around his shaft. The head was so thick it split the valley between them. She pushed down—the length of his cock extended all the way to her mouth. She could smell the musky head, feel its heat.

She started moving, sliding her breasts up and down. The friction was obscene.

"Say you like it," Park mumbled in his dream. "Say you love my big cock."

"I like it," she whispered through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. She leaned down and kissed the tip protruding from her cleavage.

"Suck it!" he commanded. "I'm going to come!"

She opened her mouth, positioned it over the head. The stream came hot and thick, filling her mouth. She swallowed, but it was too much. A trickle escaped. She clamped down, gulped again. The taste was bitter and salty. She chewed the thick glob a few times before forcing it down.

Park's cock softened at last. He collapsed back, still dreaming.

Yi Ke'er checked Li Tian. His erection had also subsided.

She dressed, her heart pounding. She found a spare gas can in the trunk, filled the tank, and drove them back.

Two hours later, in the car, Li Tian groaned awake.

"What happened?" he asked, rubbing his head.

"You were gassed," Yi Ke'er said. "Do you feel strange?"

"My groin feels weak. Like I ran a marathon down there."

Park woke next, wincing. He touched his cheek. "Why does my face hurt? Did someone hit me?"

"You probably fell," Yi Ke'er said flatly.

"I feel great, actually," Park said, smiling. "I had the strangest dream about you, Yi Ke'er. You were very... accommodating."

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

He blinked, confused, but decided not to press.

The car rolled on, and the incident was left unspoken.

A week had passed. The morning was quiet, the sunlight pale and thin through the clouds. Park Jeongseok was still half-asleep when the doorbell rang. He trudged down the stairs, grumbling to himself. "Who the hell comes knocking this early?"

He pulled open the door and found Yi Kerr standing there, dressed in a crisp white OL suit, a neat folder tucked under her arm. She looked pristine, professional, and distinctly unamused to be there.

"Yi Kerr?" Jeongseok blinked, still groggy.

"Leecheon had something come up. He'll be gone for three days. He asked me to deliver this to you," she said, holding out the folder.

Jeongseok reached for it with one hand. In his other hand, he was holding a large live octopus, still squirming and slick with seawater. He had been planning to make grilled octopus for breakfast.

The octopus thrashed. Its beak suddenly opened wide and spat out a thick jet of black ink. The ink arced through the air and splattered all over Yi Kerr's white blouse and skirt, staining the fabric in dark, spreading blotches.

Yi Kerr froze. She looked down at herself, then back up at Jeongseok. Her jaw tightened. "What the hell," she said through gritted teeth. "Now I'm covered in it. I knew it—every time I'm around you, something goes wrong."

Jeongseok's face went red. He stammered an apology, gesturing frantically toward the living room. "I'm so sorry, really, please—just sit down on the sofa, calm down. I'll get this thing cleaned up."

Still holding the ink-spewing octopus, he hurried into the kitchen, dropped it onto the cutting board, and quickly sliced it into pieces, arranging them neatly on a plate. He washed his hands, dried them, and walked back into the living room.

Yi Kerr was gone.

Jeongseok looked around. The sofa was empty. The front door was still closed. He shrugged. She must have left.

He remembered then that he hadn't showered in a day. Too busy running around. And since the branch villa was empty except for him, he figured he might as well soak in the indoor hot spring out back. He stripped off his pants and underwear right there in the living room, wrapped a towel around his waist, and padded through the house toward the rear door.

He opened the door and stepped into the warm, misty air of the private bath.

A scream shattered the quiet.

Yi Kerr was sitting in the hot spring, water up to her chest, her eyes wide with shock. "What are you doing?!" she shrieked. "I'm taking a bath here!"

Jeongseok's brain short-circuited. He spun around and faced the wall, his hands up. "I didn't know you were in here! I thought you left!"

Yi Kerr grabbed a long towel from the edge of the pool and wrapped it around herself, struggling to cover her massive breasts. The towel barely concealed them, the edges stretching taut, and a hint of her areolas was visible at the sides. Her face burned red with embarrassment and anger.

"My apartment is under renovation!" she snapped. "I can't use my bathroom! Just—get out of here! Now!"

Before Jeongseok could move, the roar of an engine sounded outside. A car pulled up near the villa's fence. Two men got out, their faces hard, and pulled handguns from their jackets. They aimed through the gaps in the fence surrounding the hot spring.

Gunshots cracked the air.

Yi Kerr was already moving. She ducked low, twisting her body out of the water, narrowly avoiding the bullets that clanged against the stone tiles. Jeongseok didn't think. He sprinted back inside, still in nothing but a towel, yanked open the front door, and jumped into his car. He slammed the accelerator, crashed through the flimsy wooden fence of the hot spring area, and skidded to a stop right in front of Yi Kerr.

"Get in!" he yelled.

Yi Kerr, still wrapped only in the long towel, leaped into the car. There was no time for proper seating—she landed directly on his lap, straddling him, the damp towel pressing against his bare skin.

"Move over!" she shouted, grabbing the steering wheel from his hands. "I'm a better driver than you!"

Jeongseok's hands flew up as she wrestled the wheel from him. He fumbled for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, securing both of them—Yi Kerr's body pressed against his chest, the steering wheel now firmly in her hands.

She stomped on the gas. The car shot forward.

Behind them, the assassins' car roared to life and gave chase.

The road was rough. They hit a speed bump at full speed. The car jolted violently, and Jeongseok's hands, left with nothing to hold, instinctively grabbed onto the first thing they found—Yi Kerr's breasts. Soft, massive, and completely uncovered beneath the thin towel.

"Let go!" she yelled, swerving the car. "Stop touching me!"

Jeongseok's eyes went wide. He tried to pull his hands away, but the next bump threw him forward again. That was when he noticed it—his cock, already half-hard from the friction and proximity, had pressed directly against the cleft of her pussy through the thin fabric of the towel. And as the car jolted again, the tip pushed inside.

Yi Kerr gasped. "What—"

She could feel it. The slow, insistent intrusion. His cock was growing, sliding deeper inch by inch as the car rattled and bounced. Her breath hitched.

"Ahh... nngh... oohh..." The sounds escaped her throat before she could stop them.

Another speed bump. A hard slam. "Aah!" she cried out.

They reached an intersection. In front of them was not a road but an endless staircase descending into the lower district. Hundreds of stone steps. Taking the car down would be brutal. Every bump, every drop, would push his cock deeper inside her.

But there was no time to think. The killers were right behind them.

Yi Kerr yanked the wheel and drove straight down the stairs.

The car bounced hard. Each step sent a shock through the chassis—and through their bodies. Jeongseok gritted his teeth, his hands gripping her waist, trying to hold back. But the violent rhythm was relentless. His cock pistoned in and out of her with every jolt.

Yi Kerr's towel fell away. Her huge breasts bounced wildly with each impact, slick with steam and sweat.

"Oh! Oh! Ah! Ooh!" She couldn't stop the moans. Her body was betraying her, hips grinding unconsciously against his thrusts.

Ten minutes. An eternity of bouncing, sliding, fucking. And then finally—the bottom. The car hit flat ground and skidded to a halt. The assassins' car had stopped at the top of the stairs. They had lost them.

Yi Kerr shoved the door open and tried to climb off his lap, to pull his cock out of her. But Jeongseok's hands clamped down on her waist, holding her in place.

"We've gone this far," he growled, his voice thick. "I can't hold back anymore. I'm coming inside you."

"No!" she shouted, but it was too late.

He thrust up hard and held himself deep inside her. A thick, hot torrent of semen erupted from his cock, flooding her cunt. It kept coming. Pulse after pulse, filling her until it dripped down her thighs. For three long minutes, his cock spasmed, pumping load after load into her. Yi Kerr's body trembled, her legs shaking, small involuntary convulsions running through her as she felt the warmth spread deep inside her.

Finally, he pulled out. She slumped over the steering wheel, panting.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Then Jeongseok's phone buzzed. He picked it up. "Yeah... The men are gone? Good. We're coming back."

He hung up. "My guys chased off the killers. We can go back to the villa."

Yi Kerr said nothing. She just climbed into the passenger seat, pulled her torn towel around herself as best she could, and stared out the window.

They drove back in silence. No one saw them enter the house. They cleaned up separately, then dressed in fresh clothes.

Jeongseok stood in the living room, his hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I couldn't stop myself."

Yi Kerr didn't look at him. Her face was blank, but her ears were red.

"Don't tell anyone about what happened today," she said flatly.

"I swear," Jeongseok said. "I'll never speak of it. To anyone. Not until I die. Besides you and me, no one will ever know."

Yi Kerr nodded once, picked up her bag, and walked out the door.