Crazy Peach XXX

"Oh no—are you all right?!"

Badly rattled, So-yul bent at the waist and frantically swept up everything that had spilled across the man's groin. Then, all at once, she felt whatever lay in her hand begin to swell. For one witless second she thought it might be an ongsimi—one of those chewy potato dumplings—but the size was all wrong.

A potato. No—a giant sweet potato. No. This was a pestle for pounding garlic.

And why was that inside his pants? Her half-awake mind was still groping for what had gone wrong when the man caught her wrist and hauled it up. Their eyes collided in the space between them, striking sparks.

"You some new species of pervert?"

Her mouth fell open at the words that followed.

A—a pervert?

It was the first time in her life she had heard anything of the kind, and So-yul's mind reeled all over again.

Get a grip. What matters right now is the patient.

She steadied her gaze with cold reason and, instead, caught hold of the man's thick wrist. Then she pulled.

"Come with me. Just for a moment."

He was absolutely not a man who could be led simply because someone tugged him—and yet, for some reason, he followed, docile, wherever So-yul took him. She brought him into the little side room beside the restaurant where she had been born and raised.

"Sir, you need to get those off. Quickly."

At that he let out a short, empty breath and raked a hand back through his cropped hair. The sleeve of his black shirt rode up, baring a forearm of thick muscle wound tight around a heavy wrist. It was an arm like a weapon—one blow, and a person would be on the express train to the next world.

"You fondle some stranger's dick however you please, and now you've shut me in here to strip me bare. What exactly are you planning to do?"

"……?"

"I'll give you this much—it's a novel way to pick a man up. But I'm not the kind of bastard who hands it out just because I'm hard."

That handsome face crumpled into a deep scowl. The weight of his indifferent, impossible-to-ignore gaze and the bluntness of his voice caught the breath in her throat, but this was not the time for that.

Who was Ong So-yul? The hero intern of Seoul Taemun Hospital—the one who put down dead-drunk troublemakers every time she pulled an ER shift. Small as she was, she shut a scene down by sheer force of presence, and she was a doctor with the nerve to put the patient's condition above everything else.

So-yul looked at the man's soaked lower half, then stepped into the bathroom. She turned the cold tap on full and filled the big, deep red rubber basin propped against the wall. There was no separate tub, so when she was little she used to bathe in this dowdy old basin.

Is it too small? No—his lower body ought to fit.

"I'm a doctor. Please undress so I can treat you."

The first rule of burn care: immerse the injured area in cold water, or rinse it. The eyes of a resident-to-be were fixed on the man's injury like an arrow.

"Urology? Or dermatology?"

He said it while narrowing those sharp eyes.

Is this really the moment to quibble over departments?

"Every time I place a urethral catheter, I see more penises than I can trip over. So please, sir—don't be shy. Take them off."

She had to see for herself how badly he was burned. A first-degree burn would show a little redness; a second, blisters and swelling; a third, the skin would blacken and the sensation would be gone. Checking the injury and taking emergency measures before any transfer was the best course. With a third-degree burn, cooling too long in cold water could do more harm than good.

"I'll look myself and see if the skin's come off. I have to look."

The words sped up before she knew it.

I'm the one who did this. This customer is the victim. Treatment isn't enough—proper compensation is on me, too.

What if it's serious? Do I have to crack open my savings?

"You're the first woman I've met who badgers me this hard to take my dick out. You've even got a whole rap going."

He looked at the woman who showed no sign of backing down as if she were a nuisance, then set his hand to his belt buckle.

Clack.

The metal came undone, and the belt dropped to the floor. Zzzip—the fly came down, and black boxer briefs the same color as the trousers came into view. His unhurried movements made her frantic. She swallowed dryly, and she could feel him looking down at her as if he meant to grind her under his heel.

"And why are you smacking your lips?"

"I wasn't. Just—hurry up and pull that down—"

"If you're in such a rush, pull it down yourself."

In the next instant he caught her hand and hooked it over the waistband. The underwear came down, and something impossible sprang up with a heavy bob.

"……A second-degree burn?"

A person could not be like this. Not even when she had assisted in surgery on that Congolese patient—the one said to be enormous by world standards—had she seen a size like this. So a human being could not be this big. Could not be this red. Absolutely not.

"The swelling is severe—you're edema'd drum-tight. It's red, too, as if the foreskin's been stripped. We'll cool it in cold water and get you to a hospi—"

"It's bigger than this when I'm hard. And the color is just my dick. A reddish pink. Overseas, they call it a Crazy Peach penis."

The blunt words drove straight into her ear. His half-lidded eyes traveled down her face in order—forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth. Under that persistent stare, like a predator that had found its prey, So-yul dropped her head.

This cannot actually be attached to a person. No. No way. He's probably too rattled to watch what comes out of his mouth.

Having made up her mind to examine him, So-yul spread two fingers and brought them to his penis.

"Sir. It's incredibly hot, and it hurts, doesn't it? I really think you need a hospital. Look at this! The swelling's getting worse!"

The penis, swollen as if it were inflating, gave a nod and rose—and had turned a deeper, darker red.

"You stare a hole through it and knead it like rice cake, and you expect the head of my dick not to stand up?"

"The head of your—what?"

"Feels like I'm about to come. You running a sexual-function test too, in case there are aftereffects? Greedy little pervert quack, aren't you."

"A pervert qu—a quack?! Excuse me. What you're saying sounds way more perverted!"

"Doesn't seem like something the person who yanked my pants off out of nowhere gets to say. Shall I bill you for the burn treatment and emotional damages while I'm at it?"

……Ha. Right. A settlement. I have to think about that, too.

Staring at the column that looked ready to burst if she so much as poked it, So-yul thought, in the opposite direction, of her savings account growing thinner by the second. She had been about to raise her voice the way her temper usually did, but she wilted all on her own.

"Sir. Come over here and let me treat this first…. If you don't want the basin, even the shower—"

She lifted the showerhead awkwardly and looked up at him.

"The pervert quack will shut the door, step outside, and bring me something to change into. I'm giving you exactly five seconds, starting now. One!"

He barked it, leaning at an angle against the bathroom wall. The way he spoke was far too familiar. It was close to the tone Ong Jun-soo—back when he was a career soldier—used to torment her with every time he came home.

"Two!"

But the high-handed pressure was in a different league from Ong Jun-soo entirely. So-yul slammed the bathroom door and tore through the room.

"Three!"

God, that voice is terrifying. Her body launched itself on its own, as if she had become the man's subordinate. In that moment a crisply pressed pair of military trousers on a hanger and a T-shirt printed with a potato ongsimi came into view—the clothes Ong Jun-soo wore at the restaurant like a uniform.

"Four!"

"Here! I've got them!"

She flung the bathroom door open and held the clothes out to the frightening victim with both hands.

"Planning to watch me change, too?"

He took the clothes in one hand, worked the back of his neck with the other, and stared at her coldly.

"No. I'll go. But, sir—with that cold running water, you really have to be thorough, and for a long—"

"I heard you. Get out and peel some potatoes."

Bang.

A man the size of the door itself shut it without mercy. So-yul stood blankly, staring at the old bathroom door.

Potatoes. Right. Peel the potatoes.

Better that than standing here like an idiot. She left the side room, came back alone, and picked up one of the potatoes that had rolled away across the floor earlier.

Ha. This is your fault. You potato. I'm going to turn you into scalding ongsimi and eat you myself.

She washed it clean and pared it mercilessly with a vegetable knife.

Click.

How much time had passed? The door of the side room at the back of the restaurant slid open, and a large figure walked out. So-yul stared at him in a daze, the vegetable knife still in her hand. The man who had arrived in a black suit now stood there in the most ridiculously adorable T-shirt in the world and a pair of military trousers, and her eyes were pulled to him even harder than before.