“Ah!”
“See? You should’ve listened better, Suho.”
Carrying out the client’s very first assignment was already proving difficult. He knew this wouldn’t be an easy target, but still.
“Why the—huff—why the hell should I listen to you? Who the fuck are you?!”
The way he snapped back so fiercely was sharper and cuter than expected. Still, no matter how cute it was, there was a limit to how much one could tolerate him speaking so casually without restraint.
“Because I’m clearly older than you?”
“Fuck off, bullshit!”
Smack!
“AAAH!”
Ji Haesu released Suho’s injured hand and slapped him across the face—simply because Choi Suho, four years younger than him, had cursed. With a palm larger than most adult men’s, the blow landed hard enough to redden one entire side of Suho’s face. Along with his cheek, his mind went numb as well.
“Uh… ngh.”
A groan slipped out on its own. He wanted to clutch his cheek with his right hand, but moving his grotesquely twisted wrist hurt even more.
But worse than the pain—far more humiliating than the pain—was the position he found himself in now.
Thud!
“……!”
Ji Haesu seized both Choi Suho’s left and right wrists at the same time and looked down at him. Suho had done this to countless weak Omegas before—but never, in his entire life, had he imagined being on the receiving end himself. The belief that this could never happen to him cracked visibly across his face.
“W-What…?”
When Suho stared up at him with a deathly pale face, Ji Haesu tilted his head and spoke flatly.
“We’re not the kind of relationship where we meet once or twice and it’s over, Suho.”
“Don’t call me Suho!”
Squeeze.
“Mmff—!”
“When someone tells you something, learn to listen, Suho. This? This is you having a habit of getting beaten.”
Ji Haesu cupped Suho’s lips and cheeks in his palm and pressed down. Those soft, cherry-colored lips he’d tasted earlier rubbed against a hand that had lived a lifetime of rough work, creating a strangely unsettling sensation.
“Suho. If you behave yourself……”
Ji Haesu whispered in a metallic voice, blinking eyes that shimmered with heat—when suddenly, ding-dong, ding-dong, the doorbell rang urgently nearby.
Staring into Ji Haesu’s desire-flickering eyes with fear and anxiety, Choi Suho felt as though he’d found a sliver of hope and turned his gaze toward the door. Ji Haesu looked there as well.
“Sir, we received a complaint at the front desk that shouting was heard from this room, so we came to check. Is everything all right?”
It was the assistant manager who worked under Jang Haejin. Suho instinctively realized that if he missed this chance, he’d never escape the trap that was Ji Haesu. His hands were restrained, his legs useless—but his head still worked!
“Mmph—mm!”
That bastard—he’d covered his mouth so tightly he could barely breathe now. His chest heaved, betraying his suffocating breaths, but even then Ji Haesu calmly spoke toward the door.
“Ah, the President got angry earlier and just fell asleep.”
“Oh, is that so?”
No! He’s acting! He’s acting and everyone’s falling for it! Come back, Assistant Manager!
While Suho lay pinned down, mouth sealed and body crushed, unable to do anything, Ji Haesu curved his lips into a faint smile. And the moment he turned his head back toward Suho—
CRACK!
Suho slammed his forehead forward with all his strength, smashing it into Ji Haesu’s. Ji Haesu, who’d relaxed under the assumption that Suho was completely under his control, staggered backward, blood pouring from his nose.
Seizing the opening as Ji Haesu reeled, Suho burst free and rammed his shoulder into him, slamming him hard against the wall.
BOOM!
“…President?”
“Fuck—don’t go!”
Clutching his loosely dangling right wrist with his left hand, Suho scrambled upright and bolted straight for the door. Ji Haesu, leaning against the wall and holding his bleeding nose, saw Suho reaching for the chain lock and strode over.
“President, what’s going—”
“Fuck, fuck—why is there a chain too—!”
Using his rarely relied-on left hand, Suho struggled with the chain—only for Ji Haesu to grab his shoulder, spin him around, and smash his head into the wall without mercy.
CRACK!
“Ghk!”
Suho let out a short moan, his eyes rolling back as his body trembled. The blow was strong enough to give him a mild concussion; he wouldn’t regain clarity for a while.
Instead of letting him collapse, Ji Haesu propped him upright by the door, supporting him from behind, and whispered in a very low voice.
“Repeat after me. ‘It’s fine. You can go.’”
“Huff… hhk… f-fuck…”
“I’m going to rape you here.”
The words snapped Suho’s consciousness wide open.
What?
“And what do you think will happen if your dad sees that?”
It felt like a small giant lived in Suho’s chest—thump, thump, thump, thump—his heart pounding violently.
“President? President, are you okay? Should we call the police? What’s going on—”
“No! I’m fine!”
At the word police, Suho reflexively shouted that he was fine. It was one of the things his father hated most. Even now, drenched in cold sweat at the thought that his father must never find out, his pupils shook violently as they dilated.
Rape me…? No. That can’t be. It can’t.
“Pardon? You’re saying you’re fine? But—”
As the assistant manager questioned him in an uneasy voice, Ji Haesu deliberately reached forward and began stripping off Suho’s bathrobe. Suho’s heart dropped straight to his toes.
Silently smiling, Ji Haesu slid the same hand that had snapped Suho’s wrist down his sharply defined six-pack to his smooth, hairless groin.
“…Hngh!”
“President?”
Propping himself against the door with his uninjured left arm, Suho’s Alpha cock had shriveled in fear. Seeing it, Ji Haesu snorted in amusement and grabbed it like a water balloon, squeezing hard.
The pain was indescribable. Suho’s legs caved inward, his upper body folding in on itself. A scream nearly burst out—but clinging to the thought that he could never show himself breaking as the president of XX Hotel, as Jang Yuguk’s son, Suho forced his mouth open and spoke.
“Fuck… it’s nothing… tell him to go!”
At last hearing something properly Choi Suho-like, the assistant manager replied without much reaction.
“Yes, President. Have a good night.”
Good night? Fucking hell of a night.
With his cock held tightly, unable to resist at all, Choi Suho was no longer the president of XX Hotel, nor Jang Yuguk’s son. He was just a dominant Alpha named Choi Suho.
“You raped Do Si-in here like this too, didn’t you?”
Do Si-in. A name Suho could never forget. A name that stabbed straight into his chest before his head could process it. He glared with bloodshot eyes and spat out,
“Do Si-in?”
“More importantly—should we do it here?” Ji Haesu asked casually.
“If you get raped here, it’ll be like announcing to all the guests, ‘I’m being raped!’ right? That’s why you picked this suite to fuck recessive Omegas and Alphas on purpose. In the inner bedroom, no matter how much you scream, no one hears.”
“……”
Suho’s face drained of all color. Ji Haesu smiled brightly. “Thought so.”
Then he locked Suho in a headlock and dragged him straight into the inner bedroom of the suite.
“Ghk! Ngh—!”
“There are plenty of trash like you—but trash like you is rare too. You know what I mean?”
Dragged toward the bedroom with his airway crushed by Ji Haesu’s muscular arm, Suho couldn’t properly hear his words.
Can’t breathe… I’m going to die…
“Trash that fits my taste perfectly and is a chaebol’s son? Rare. That’s why I should’ve charged over ten billion, but I gave him a discount. Big one. It’s a special request—and I get to enjoy it too. So, Suho, try using polite speech, yeah? Then hyung might go a little easier on you.”
But Suho didn’t hear a word. Ji Haesu’s arm kept crushing down below his Adam’s apple.
Suho’s eyes rolled halfway back, saliva streaming from his mouth. He weakly slapped Ji Haesu’s arm with his intact left hand, begging him to stop—but Ji Haesu didn’t relent.
Only after reaching the inner bedroom—twisted like a Minotaur’s labyrinth—did he finally release him. Even after being laid almost gently onto the bed, Suho still couldn’t regain his senses from how badly he’d been choked.
“Cough—cough!”
Clutching his neck, now marked red, Suho trembled in agony. The fear of actually dying from suffocation made his entire body shake, his head fuzzy from lack of oxygen.
I have to live. I have to live and go to my father—no matter what. I can’t die here—
Still dazed, Suho sprawled forward on the bed. Forgetting his injured hand, he braced himself with his right palm—and the moment it touched the mattress, a surge of unbearable pain shot through him.
“AAH!”
“Where do you think you’re going? You need to get raped.”
A brutal force suddenly grabbed his ankle and yanked him down. Terror ripped out of him as he screamed, “AAAAAH!”
His face white as a sheet, Suho desperately grabbed at the blanket—but all that happened was the soft, warm fabric bunching up and getting dragged along with him.
Smack!
“Ah!”
