That Night in the High-Rise Hotel
Arriving at the hotel took over an hour in the end.
Je-hyeok had mentioned one on the south side of the Han River. The tallest hotel in Seoul, Woo-hee had never set foot inside it before. She had been there during construction back when she lived in the city.
After riding the elevator to the lobby, she gave the employee the name Choi Mun-gyu.
Je-hyeok had told her the name. The employee glanced at the computer screen, smiled politely, and led her to a separate elevator.
The ride up was so swift that her ears grew numb. The ding of the arriving floor jolted her foggy mind back to alertness.
There was only one suite on that level. She slipped the card key into the slot and hesitated for a moment. Once she crossed that threshold, she would truly be unable to turn back.
Yet hesitating now felt absurd. With a shallow sigh she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Dim lighting filled the space.
The ceiling soared high. Beyond the living room and bathroom lay a bedroom. Every wall was glass, framing a panoramic view of Seoul’s skyline.
Yet within that vast room no trace of Woo Je-hyeok appeared.
Woo-hee waited in the living room, gazing out at the city lights glittering far below. Countless sparks pulsed across the black expanse, flickering like a living painting.
Even though Je-hyeok was nowhere in sight, she felt no urge to call him. He would come, she told herself. Perhaps he had grown tired of waiting and gone elsewhere. Maybe he was already with another woman, laughing.
Or could the three of them be playing together? What about four?
Or perhaps he had brought one or two men along. Je-hyeok was more than capable of that. The thought only deepened her unease. She forced herself not to think of him at all. Her head felt heavy, almost feverish. When she pressed her forehead against the cool glass wall, the sound of a card key being swiped echoed.
The door swung open. Footsteps approached with measured strides. A metallic click followed—the sound of a watch chain being unclasped—then something was tossed aside.
In the end, the only figure visible was Woo Je-hyeok.
He wore the lightest outfit she had ever seen on him: loose black slacks and a light-gray button-down shirt. The slightly damp ends of his hair gave him a fresher look than usual.
For a moment he simply looked at her. Then, without a word, he opened the mini-fridge, took out a bottle of water, and drank it in one go. The plastic bottle creaked as he crushed it and hurled it into the corner trash can. The thud sounded unnervingly loud.
“You look more welcoming now.”
She lifted her gaze after a long silence. When their eyes met, Woo-hee lowered her head awkwardly.
“...Hello.”
He let out a short, mocking chuckle.
“Yes, hello. Good evening, I suppose.”
The greeting felt like a taunt. Perhaps he was merely echoing her stiff reply.
Woo Je-hyeok wiped the moisture from his lips, slid into a pair of slippers, and sauntered over. He leaned against the doorframe between kitchen and bedroom and swept his gaze slowly up and down her body—once from top to bottom, then again from bottom to top. He studied her without a word.
It was humiliating to be watched. She had no idea what to say. The man standing with both hands in his pockets looked far too relaxed.
Was this how he usually did things? Woo-hee had never experienced anything like this with a man before—never even dated one. She wanted this over quickly and to leave.
The silence stretched meaninglessly, making her uncomfortable.
“...Should I take them off?”
“If you want.”
Woo-hee summoned her courage. He twitched the corner of his mouth, that mocking smile still in place.
She did not want to dwell on the man’s gaze or laugh at this moment. She refused to let anything sink deeply into her heart tonight. She simply wanted it done and over with. Since he showed no intention of moving first, she would start.
She decided to undress quickly, quickly, and quickly leave. After setting the bag down, she unbuttoned her cardigan.
She draped it over the nearby armchair and reached behind her back to unclasp the dress. For a moment the zipper resisted, but she finally managed to pull it down.
Even then Woo Je-hyeok continued to watch her with that same arrogant posture. His eyes were dark and intense, yet he did not lift a finger.
She felt like a call girl, being summoned and inspected like this for his amusement. She forced the disgust down.
Even as she stood half-undressed, confusion swirled inside her. She still did not know how to act in front of him. Should she behave like a woman chasing money? Or like one hopelessly in love with him? She had no idea what would get her through this night safely.
While she hesitated, the dress slipped to the floor. She picked it up and hung it over the armchair. Next she removed the camisole and placed it on the sofa.
No words left his lips, yet he kept watching her.
She continued undressing with steady resolve. What remained were only the bra and stockings and panties.
She reached behind her again to unhook the bra when his phone rang. It was his.
“Eh, why?”
Still staring at her, he answered the call.
“Who? I was just watching something.”
He pushed off the doorframe, removed a slipper, and approached her.
“You don’t need to know. ...Yeah. It’s really killing me.”
The vulgar words seemed directed at her. Woo-hee’s heart sank. She lowered the hand that had been reaching for the bra clasp. She looked up at the man now standing right in front of her with distaste.
Suddenly she realized how enormous his body was. The man she had to crane her neck to meet was overwhelmingly tall.
Through the phone came the vulgar request, “So what are you doing?” She wanted to glance at him too.
“First let me see.”
He tilted his head, as if asking why she wasn’t removing her clothes. She had no desire to be his viewing material anymore. A rebellious urge rose inside her—she refused to follow his wishes.
“Just kidding,” he said, trying to soothe her. She couldn’t tell whether the words were meant for the caller or for her. The mood had already soured anyway.
“So how many are there?”
He reached out and squeezed one breast through the black bra. His fingers kneaded the soft flesh, growing warm. Woo-hee felt heat flood to her chest.
At the moment his fingertips brushed her nipple, she bit back a moan.
“What are you all doing?”
Je-hyeok’s voice dropped. The look in her eyes said she was pitiful. Whether she was being foolish for holding back her voice or for refusing to undress, she couldn’t tell.
Yet his touch grew more insistent. He twisted and tugged her nipple. Overwhelming excitement surged through her body, but Woo-hee stubbornly refused to moan.
Her own appearance here was wretched. An unbearable sense of shame washed over her.
She clenched her teeth to stop herself from lowering her head when the back of her skull was suddenly caught in the man’s broad palm. She was pulled helplessly toward him. The rough tongue forced its way into her mouth without mercy.
It was a sudden kiss. Woo-hee struggled, but it was useless. His thick tongue stroked hers, sucking her lips until they parted. She wanted to push him away, yet her will was powerless against his solid frame. Her chest felt suffocated.
Shamelessly, Woo Je-hyeok kept his eyes open. Watching her struggle and whimper with distress, he tilted his head with an amused glint and pushed his tongue deeper.
The look in his eyes was absurd and irritating. Anger flared, but she slapped his cheek sharply. The loud crack echoed as his head snapped sideways.
He stumbled back and silence fell. Her palm stung. Woo-hee stared at the reddened hand, then lifted her gaze.
Je-hyeok slowly turned his face back toward her. The strange expression on his face as he looked at her again was puzzling. She felt a flicker of surprise herself at what had happened so abruptly.
Should she be angry that he had kissed her? Or should she apologize for slapping him?
He raised his hand and touched his burning cheek. After a short exhale, Woo-hyeok’s face showed neither laughter nor anger—it was unreadable.
“Why... why did you kiss me all of a sudden?”
She wanted to demand an explanation, but he lifted his hand in a gesture telling her to wait because he needed to take the call.
“Say it again. I missed a part.”
His muttered complaint came through the phone: “What were you doing to miss it?”
“I was getting slapped.”
The caller sounded incredulous. Je-hyeok himself looked equally baffled. He touched his cheek with that puzzled expression, then burst into laughter, still looking bewildered.
At that moment, the faint trace of guilt that had begun to bloom inside her vanished. Instead, a small surge of satisfaction rose—she was glad she had slapped him. It was a bad feeling. Yet she had no choice. Whenever she saw this man, her own wicked thoughts stirred inside her.