Maki sniffled at his cold, stinging nose. How could it not be? His pure, devoted one-sided love had been shattered to pieces.
“They say when your belly gets hit, your eyes get hit too—it’s the way of the world.” Especially since Young Master Seon, already at an age where his blood ran hot, had discovered the taste of men pounding each other…
Whether it was the pleasure of pounding or being pounded, once you knew it, it was hard to quit. No ordinary distraction could sever that desire.
Human hearts were like that. They didn’t fold neatly like paper, just because you wanted them to. Every day, watching Seon slip in and out of Jihan’s room like a rat through a torn rice sack, Maki’s own heart burned with anxiety.
“How could things be so lewd?”
Even Maki, who’d been with multiple men before he was of age, had to admit—Seon’s stamina was impressive. Not satisfied with their nighttime trysts, just yesterday, the moment Grand Secretary Choi left for court, Seon had barged into Jihan’s room and didn’t emerge until sunset.
Maki knew Seon well—he’d once coldly rejected a plump, naked maid without batting an eye. Yet here he was, ferociously claiming Jihan first, despite Jihan’s prickly nature never once initiating anything.
“Clean this up properly.”
Either way, many things had changed. The kind, gentle Young Master of the Annex, who used to smile softly whenever Maki snuck him late-night snacks, had vanished without a trace.
“Make sure no one talks, and leave no trace behind.”
Seon, stepping out of the room, tossed Maki a coin with a cold warning. Since Maki was the only one who knew, the cleanup naturally fell to him. Straightening the bedding tangled from a night of two men’s debauchery, erasing every trace of their affair—his cheeks burned just thinking about it.
After Seon left and Maki finished tidying, he turned back with a sigh.
“Huu… Young Master.”
Seon wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The very fact that Jihan hadn’t punished Maki for his blunder—no beatings, no threats of selling him off—was proof enough.
Normally, Jihan would’ve starved him for three days and added a whipping for good measure. But now? Nothing.
“Young Master… You need to eat breakfast to regain your strength, don’t you?”
Squatting by the side door leading to the veranda, Jihan sat burning incense, his sharp face devoid of expression or vitality. He’d never been one for dramatic facial shifts, but this emptiness was new. Lately, he’d barely seen sunlight, his already pale skin now ghostly.
“That fastidious noble…”
Jihan had always been meticulous—his topknot never askew even after sleep, his clothes immaculate even if he wasn’t going out.
But now? He was half-naked, wearing only an unbuttoned dong’ot robe, the front gaping open to reveal his limp cock hanging shamelessly. His topknot had come undone, his raven-black hair spilling wild down his back.
Maki’s throat bobbed involuntarily as he stole glances at Jihan’s bare body. Bite marks and suckling bruises littered his fair skin—especially around his chest and the tender inside of his thick thighs, so persistent and obscene it was almost grotesque.
“Go fetch some tobacco powder.”
Jihan’s voice, slightly hoarse, broke the silence. Maki shook his head.
“Only after you eat, Young Master. I’ll light it for you right after you finish this.”
Maki brought in a steaming tray and set it before Jihan.
“It’s tarakjuk—your favorite, made from the cow that calved the other day.”
The rich, nutty aroma filled the air. Jihan stared blankly at the porridge before muttering, “The porridge is black.”
Maki gasped and scooted closer. “Black, Young Master? Look—it’s white porridge!”
Jihan just kept staring. Frustrated, Maki grabbed his cold hand.
“Oh, what’s become of you? Anyone would think you’ve gone half-blind!”
“…”
“You’re just letting me get away with this? Where’s the threat to knock out my teeth if I don’t shut up? Where’s the rage?”
“…You talk too much. Ugly thing.”
“You’re right. I am ugly. But you can still tell that much, so you’re not completely blind, are you?”
“I’m not in the mood. My mind’s elsewhere. I’ll eat when I’m ready—push that away.”
“I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but just one more spoonful before I nag you to death, deal?”
Maki scraped off the slightly cooled surface of the porridge and held the spoon to Jihan’s lips. Jihan just stared blankly, mouth shut. When Maki tried to force the spoon between his lips, Jihan turned his head. A dab of porridge smeared his mouth.
Maki’s eyes widened in shock. Normally, a slap would’ve flown by now. But Jihan didn’t react—his mind seemed elsewhere.
The white porridge dribbled down his chin, then trickled along his neck to his collarbone. Maki’s gaze followed it downward. Beneath the loose robe, taut skin bore fresh, red bite marks, now being traced by a slow, heavy droplet of porridge—like semen.
“…”
For the first time, Maki saw his master this close. A flawless, sharp nose, a tip as delicate as a sock toe. His skin was luminous, his lashes so perfect they looked handcrafted. His eyes were soft, his lips so red they seemed rouged—often mistaken for a woman’s.
“He was always handsome enough to turn heads… but lately, he’s got this bewitching aura too.”
Ever since he’d been with Seon, he exuded something beyond sensuality—something eerie, almost demonic.
“Wipe it.”
Jihan whispered, eyes still closed. Snapping out of his daze, Maki fumbled for a silk handkerchief.
“Forgive me, Young Master. I’m sorry.”
His patchy stubble flushed crimson.
“What the hell is wrong with me? Lusting after Young Master Jihan, of all people…”
To shake off the shame, Maki meticulously wiped Jihan’s chin, neck, and even the dampened front of his robe. Then a low voice cut through from behind.
“Maki. Step away.”
Startled, Maki spun around. “Young Master! When did you—”
He hadn’t even noticed Seon enter. Dressed in sleek black chang’ui, likely from archery practice, his icy gaze carried an unreadable tension.
Flustered, Maki scrambled to his feet and backed away. Jihan, who’d been slumped the whole time, stiffened at Seon’s arrival, visibly on guard as he hastily adjusted his robe.
“Leave.”
Seon’s eyes stayed locked on Jihan as he ordered Maki out. After a hesitant bow, Maki slipped from the room.
Seon glanced at the cooling porridge, then back at Jihan. Only now realizing his exposed lower half, Jihan yanked the robe closed.
For a long moment, Seon studied him before speaking softly.
“Enjoy parading naked while you eat?”
“…What?”
“I’m asking if you like flashing your cock at lowborn scum.”
Jihan scoffed. As if it wasn’t YOU who stripped me bare in the first place. His arrogance grew by the day. But the power was always in his hands. Jihan clenched his fists, glaring.
“What I do in front of who is none of your—”
“Don’t let other men see you naked.”
Seon’s eyes flickered briefly. Jihan went pale. “You’ve lost your mind.”
Seon paused, slowly raking his gaze over Jihan’s body. Tilting his head, he asked, “So you do enjoy showing yourself off to others?”
“Yes. I love it. Happy now?”
“Then should I shave you clean?”
Jihan froze, processing the words.
“You said you love exposing yourself. So let me help—shave off that useless hair. Neatly.”
Jihan’s heart pounded as he retreated. “I’ll take that as a joke.”
“I’m serious.”
Seon was serious.
He knew more about this household than he let on—especially about Maki. Plain-looking but skilled in bed, a man who’d serviced enough nobles to master the art of debauchery.
And Jihan knew Seon knew. Yet he kept acting so carelessly, as if daring him. It was infuriating to watch.
“The body, hair, and skin—all gifts from our parents. We cut our hair when it grows long, but a Confucian scholar would never shave the hair from his skin…”
“Yet a nobleman like you exposes himself to a lowborn?”
“I wasn’t—”
“Weren’t you?”
Seon exhaled, mocking. “Well, if you’ll keep it covered from now on…”
“I will! So—”
“Words aren’t enough. I need proof.”
“What?”
Seon wasn’t backing down. He would shave him—every last hair. Only then would Jihan feel true shame and hide himself properly.
From his sleeve, Seon pulled a small knife and coated the blade with fragrant oil. Jihan’s face drained of color.
“D-Don’t. You’re insane. Stay back. I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead. The humiliation’s mine to bear, not yours.”
The knife slid between Jihan’s thighs without hesitation. Jihan sat rigid, knees trembling, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed tight as he clutched the bedding.
Seon worked carefully, pressing the blade flat. Jihan’s body hair had always been fine and sparse—thicker around his navel, thinning toward his perineum, where only a few dark curls framed his tight, pink hole like a hook.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
