“You bastard… what the hell…”
Kim Seon’s pupils lacked focus as he panted heavily, glaring in this direction. It was clear he had lost all reason to the drug’s effects. Why the hell wasn’t he unconscious?
Jihan calmly fastened his collar while assessing the situation. Between Seon’s spread knees, his exposed undergarments were tented by an erect member, dripping pre-cum and twitching obscenely.
“One cup stirs desire, two turns a man into a beast…”
He should have passed out after three. The fact that he hadn’t meant—
“No rationality left. Just a beast ruled by pure lust.”
A cold sweat trickled down Jihan’s spine at the realization.
“First, I need to get out of his sight.”
He moved to stand, but in that instant, his ankle was seized.
“Agh! You son of a bitch!”
Jihan clawed at the desk leg to resist, sending the inkstone and flower vase crashing to the floor. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the bare wooden planks.
A large hand slid under his belly, flipping him effortlessly. Jihan thrashed, striking wildly at Seon’s descending face, but the man seemed to feel no pain. Goblin’s Water—they said it numbed pain, even used it for lancing boils.
“Let go of me, damn it!”
He barely managed to roll toward the screen divider, only for a sharp elbow to pin his back. The pressure was agonizing.
“Agh! You fucking—! Do you want to die?!”
He flailed, screaming, but the elbow only shifted to a heavier knee grinding into his spine.
“Guh… hngh!”
His breath was crushed out of him.
Rip. Rough hands tore at his seams. His outer robe was shoved aside, a palm groping beneath his thin undergarment, squeezing his chest with brutal force. The way it kneaded his nipple sent a jolt of terror through him—his face drained of color, jaw trembling.
Then the groping hand slid lower, fingers digging into the waistband of his pants. His vision whited out. He knew exactly what Seon intended. Cold fingertips pried at his cleft, tracing the tightly clenched entrance.
Jihan craned his neck desperately, eyes darting. A toppled butterfly lantern lay nearby, its melted wax pooling on the floor.
With shaking hands, he stretched—just barely—his middle finger hooking around the bronze handle. He gripped it like a lifeline.
“You bastard!”
He swung with all his strength, striking Seon’s temple.
Seon staggered, clutching his forehead. Jihan wrenched free, crawling across the scattered debris on the floor.
By the time he reached the corridor near the blind-folded lattice door, he risked a glance back. Through the fingers pressed to his forehead, Seon’s black eyes burned into him.
“Hah… fuck.”
Jihan rolled off the veranda, bare feet hitting the cold earth of the courtyard. The winter wind sliced through him. He clutched his torn clothes, scanning his surroundings.
Run. I have to run—
Where?
His mind blanked. The repeated shocks had turned his thoughts to sludge. His vision blurred.
The main gates were locked. Spotting the inner gate leading to the main house, he bolted toward it without hesitation.
But just as he was about to cross the threshold—
“Agh!”
A massive hand seized his topknot, yanking so hard he feared his scalp would tear off. The pain was secondary to the humiliation—someone daring to grab his hair. Jihan shrieked curses, thrashing, kicking. Drops of blood from Seon’s forehead spattered his skin.
“You fucking animal! How dare you—! Let go of my hair, you worthless maggot! Let go, now!”
His struggles sent him sprawling. Seon dragged him like a dog, expression blank, eyes fixed ahead as he marched forward, fist still tangled in Jihan’s topknot.
Jihan couldn’t give up. In a last-ditch effort, he grabbed a handful of dirt from the courtyard and hurled it into Seon’s face.
“Ugh!”
The grip on his hair loosened for a second. Jihan scrambled up and sprinted for the inner gate.
Where did Maki run off to?
The jar stand! The main house’s jar stand! He could climb the large jars to scale the wall!
As he raced along the base of the wall, a chill ran down his spine. Glancing back, he saw Seon wiping blood from his forehead with his sleeve, one hand braced on the doorframe as he stepped through the gate. At this distance, the moment Jihan climbed the jars, Seon would snatch him by the scruff.
Frantic, he spotted the unused storage pantry of the main house.
Jihan crouched low, muffling his steps as he slipped inside. Pressing his back against the doorframe, he peered through the hinge gap, monitoring the outside. Seon was crossing the courtyard, still dabbing at his bloody forehead. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed Jihan’s hiding spot. Carefully, Jihan shut the pantry’s side door without a sound.
“Hngh… huuuh. Huuuh.”
His ragged breaths filled his throat. Leaning against the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut, teeth chattering from the cold and adrenaline.
In the dim pantry, a dull kitchen knife caught his eye. He snatched it, clutching it protectively to his chest.
A wooden storage chest for firewood stood inside. Jihan opened it and crawled in, perching on the low shelf. If he stayed still, his feet might show beneath the door gap.
Total darkness. His hands shook around the knife’s hilt, his breath coming in white puffs.
“Where did it all go wrong?”
Jihan stared blankly ahead. Was it a mistake to ever listen to that lowly shaman’s advice? Or had the drug simply failed? Or—had that idiot Maki ruined everything at the last second? No matter how he turned it over, the frustration was the same.
Only now did regret crash over him like a wave. This mess was his own doing.
“…Just try coming in here. Step one foot inside, you bastard. I’ll stab you dead. I’ll ruin that pretty face of yours…”
He tightened his grip on the knife, muttering like an incantation. Straining his ears, he listened for any sound outside. Only the howl of the predawn wind.
“Did he leave the main house?”
A flicker of relief—
Then, the faintest rustle of movement.
Jihan nearly dropped the knife. He clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Please…”
Tap. Tap.
“Don’t come…”
—Creeeak.
The pantry’s old side door, warped from disuse, groaned open. The wind grew louder.
Thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Jihan froze. His breath stopped. The footsteps inside the pantry echoed low, shredding the silence. Despite the cold, sweat dripped down his back.
Clang. The sound of an old cauldron being overturned. Squeak. Something being shoved aside in the corner.
Trapped in the pitch-black firewood chest, Jihan’s terror nearly choked him.
The noises gradually faded—
Thud.
Thud. Thud.
…Creeeak.
The familiar groan of the side door.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
