Don't Seduce Me

Won-young tried to push Lee-kyung's cock away, but he only drove himself in harder—savage, all the way to the back of her throat.

"Ghk."

Eyes gone mad with pleasure pinned her where she was. Strange curses spilled out of him as his palm seized her by the hair.

Don't—don't shake me! I'll kill you—

She meant it as a warning. It was already too late. Caught in his grip, her throat full of him, she was yanked back and forth.

The gag rose. In and out, over and over—under that repetitive, perverse rhythm, Won-young could only take it, dazed. Her lips trembled.

When she judged she couldn't bear another stroke, she finally shoved him off in sheer irritation.

"Ugh—ugh. Hah……! S-Seonbae. Why are you being so rough!"

Lee-kyung, his face drawn into something unbearably obscene, met her eyes and muttered.

"How many times do I have to say it. You like this."

"Like hell I do. This is not my thing. And Seonbae—what is that noise? It's been going since earlier. It's loud. Turn it off."

"What noise?"

"That. You really can't hear it?"

What. Why are you ringing from in there.

The familiar melody, faint at first, drew nearer and nearer.

Her eyes flew open. A languid morning alarm was shrieking, wrecking her deep sleep. Won-young jolted upright, scrambled out of the bedding, and scanned the room.

"Hah—ah."

The container house in Aokuri. The familiar violet-patterned bedding. And, more than anything, Jeong-geun's face thrust cheerfully through the low window, bright with a smile.

"Daughter. You up?"

Won-young flinched hard, then hurriedly covered the nape of her neck. She had thrashed so wildly in the dream that her whole body still burned.

"Ah, Dad. Why am I like this?"

"Ji-an brought you home around dawn yesterday. You don't remember?"

Not Ryu Lee-kyung. Ryu Ji-an brought me back?

God. How much did I even drink.

It had been so long since alcohol wiped her memory clean that she couldn't recall the last time. Even so—a dream like that, at the crack of dawn?

Won-young. Did you starve yourself? What were you doing, hanging off Seonbae all night.

"Hoo……"

As the sigh left her, Hwa-seon came running from somewhere far off and flung the door wide. Won-young startled.

"Mom, what? What's wrong?"

Hwa-seon's hands flashed, bright and quick.

"A rainbow!"

"Huh?"

"A rainbow's up!"

Won-young burst outside without so much as washing her face. Beyond the house, a five-colored rainbow hung in the sky like a painting. The three of them sat side by side on the table and quietly took it in.

All at once, last night at the barbecue place came back to her.

He had looked steadily down at her as she dug in her heels. Last night his gaze had seemed so much like the way he used to look at her when he loved her fiercely. She found herself wondering if it had only been a trick of her own wanting.

Of course it was.

Because of Oh Se-hyung?

Of all the things to remember, it was that line. Ahh. So annoying.

In the end she hadn't even slept with Seonbae. Her heart had been stirred up for nothing, and her sincerity had been rejected outright. Everything was a mess.

Won-young let out a dry, hollow laugh and folded forward onto the table, lying there. Indifferent to her mood, the rainbow blazed as if it might deliver good news at any moment. Not wanting to spoil that promise, she forced a smile—so she could smooth the crumpled night out properly.

It's nothing.

Smooth it flat, and that would be the end of it.

Lee-kyung sat at his desk. He opened the laptop and slowly read the numbers held on the screen. The winding graph had been climbing day after day. He sold his paintings and put a portion into stocks, and because of it life was comfortable enough now that he no longer needed to look at his bankbook. Even so, the days that filled him were still dull.

"Oppa, Won-young's awake."

After a knock, Ji-an eased her face in and delivered the news.

At dawn, Lee-kyung had meant to take the thoroughly drunk Won-young all the way to her door, then changed his mind and asked Ji-an to do it instead. Ji-an, who had cooked side dishes since morning and hauled in yet another full load, was stacking them neatly in the refrigerator when she pulled out the earlier containers—still not half empty—and heaved sigh after sigh.

"Please just eat when you're supposed to. Dinner, at least, you've been managing lately because Won-young's around. But breakfast and lunch, you're still living on coffee, aren't you? Keep this up, Oppa, and you really might drop dead one of these days."

"Worry about yourself."

At the snap in his voice, Ji-an pouted. She looked as if she wanted to ask about last night, but her mouth was heavy, and she asked nothing.

Morning sun poured through the bright window, rippling. The light must have stung. Ji-an, who had been frowning without pause, let out a short sigh and brought up the difficult thing.

"There isn't much time left, is there."

"……Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"What would you have me do."

Whenever talk of their father slipped in between the siblings, the air always turned grave. It was the same when their mother's name came up. Which was why, for the past several years, the two of them had not once let their parents pass their lips, as if the subject were forbidden.

Ji-an bowed her head and stared endlessly at the floor before she finally managed to go on.

"Wouldn't it be right to have him stay at the house we used to live in?"

"I put that house up for sale."

"What? Oppa, I told you I didn't want that."

"I'll handle it. Don't concern yourself."

"Oppa."

"Ryu Ji-an."

His voice, gone cold, warned her off. Don't speak of their father any further. Ji-an gave a small nod.

"I was going to have lunch with Won-young. Do you want to come eat with us?"

"No. You two eat."

"You're not worried? You said she drank a lot yesterday."

Lee-kyung didn't bother to answer. He stepped past Ji-an, pulled a cup of coffee, and went out to the veranda. Through the open window a warm wind brushed both his cheeks.

Out of nowhere, the words Won-young had thrown at him last night returned. In truth they had already bound him hundreds of times over, leaving him unable to paint a single figure all day.

Hasty, impulsive Noh Won-young. Noh Won-young, who lived entirely as she pleased. And yet a good, lovable woman who could never, no matter what, become a selfish person.

Six months. Exactly that long left. In six months, their father would come back.

He did not like that Won-young had returned now of all times—just as the man who had smashed their home to pieces and raged like a lunatic was due to be released. There had been a season when their father's existence felt, to Ji-an and to Lee-kyung both, like a chain of misfortune. Ji-an flinching from strangers. Ji-an flinching from sound. Ji-an walking down a street and, for no reason at all, seizing and collapsing. All of it was their father's doing.

Lee-kyung had never once told Won-young about him. What was strange was that Won-young, too, had never once asked about his parents.

Of course.

Had Ryu Ji-an already told her everything?

Now and then he wondered just how much Won-young knew. He had never asked Why don't you ask me anything?—because he knew Noh Won-young better than anyone alive. He knew the heart behind her silence. He knew exactly how she had been taking care of him.

Lee-kyung had hated the nickname pinned to her back then. If it displeased him that, in the world of a Won-young who wanted so much and hungered for so much, there was no one but Ryu Lee-kyung—then perhaps that displeasure was only greed of his own.

He did not welcome her walking that road again. He did not want that Noh Won-young.

"……So don't seduce me."

Even in a world without you, I've held out this well.

"So what happened after that?"