Jihan finally let out a short breath. That was unmistakably the sound of the door opening and someone stepping outside. If Seon left the storeroom and exited the main house, there would be plenty of opportunities to escape.
Jihan carefully unfolded his crouched legs and climbed down from the shelf. Just as he was about to open the storeroom door, he thought it might be better to check the situation first. He let go of the doorknob again. Everything was silent. Trying not to make a sound, he crouched low. There was a gap beneath the door—he could at least peek inside the storeroom through it. With trembling hands, he pressed his palms to the floor and knelt. Slowly, he lowered his upper body until his cheek nearly touched the ground.
At that moment, his gaze locked with a pair of eyes peering through the same gap from the other side.
“Aaaah!”
With a shriek, he scrambled back onto the shelf. An arm suddenly shot beneath the door, wildly swiping at the floor. Without hesitation, Jihan grabbed the iron latch and clung to it. As expected—clang, clang!—a brutal force yanked at the door from the other side. The metal latch groaned as if it might snap at any moment.
Somehow, he had dropped the kitchen knife. Jihan’s eyes darted between the door, which threatened to burst open with every shake, and the blade lying on the floor.
His grip on the latch was weakening. The door rattled violently, on the verge of giving way. After a moment’s hesitation, Jihan slid down from the shelf and snatched up the knife—just as the door flew open.
“You bastard!”
He lunged forward, knife raised to stab, but Seon effortlessly sidestepped, grabbing Jihan’s wrist and twisting it behind his back. Jihan screamed as the knife clattered from his hand. A man’s solid arm wrapped around his torso, crushing him. He thrashed, trying to break free, and seized the chance to drive his elbow into Seon’s solar plexus.
Cough. A short, choked sound escaped Seon as his grip loosened. Jihan tried to bolt, but a foot hooked around his ankle from behind. He crashed forward, knees slamming into the dusty floor.
“Ugh—kill you…!”
There was no contest in strength. Seon grabbed the nape of Jihan’s neck like a misbehaving child and forced him facedown onto the dusty shelf. As Jihan writhed, a firm palm pressed between his shoulder blades, pinning him.
“Guh.”
His chest was crushed against the hard edge of the shelf. Through the pain, Jihan’s frantic eyes spotted the knife in the corner. He stretched out a desperate hand—only for Seon to kick it away. The blade skidded out of reach. Despair washed over him.
“Why… why are you doing this?”
His voice trembled uncontrollably. Seon said nothing, his rough hands untying the sash at Jihan’s waist. The pants slipped down to his ankles. The cold air raised goosebumps on his exposed thighs.
“Don’t—don’t do this…”
Seon’s breath was hot against the back of his ear. Without bothering to untie the undergarment, he tore the fabric apart. Jihan clawed at that wrist, twisting his body, but the undergarment too fell to his ankles. The hem of his outer robe brushed against his exposed tip, sending a shudder down his spine.
Then Seon’s foot wedged between Jihan’s legs, pushing his ankles apart. Spread them.
“Don’t—please, hyung. It’s me… Jihan hyung.”
Seon’s breath ghosted over his ear. He might as well have been a straw man—his hands still prying Jihan’s buttocks apart. Cold air hit the exposed cleft. The hole clenched tightly. Something slick and scorching pressed against the trembling hole. Jihan shouted like thunder had struck.
“Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll—properly, I swear! You can’t just force it in dry—let me… let this hyung suck you with his mouth, wet you with his tongue!”
He tried to sound composed, but the words tumbled out in a panicked rush. Seon paused, as if considering.
The pressure against his hole retreated. Jihan turned slowly, carefully, like balancing on a narrow plank. Blood crusted Seon’s forehead, his dark eyes deep and unreadable, the whites red-rimmed. In the eerie moonlight, his pale face looked like a grim reaper’s. The wicked aura radiating from him was at its peak.
“Ever… had your cock sucked before? It’s soft, wet… feels amazing.”
Seon’s gaze dropped to Jihan’s lips—naturally upturned at the corners, the kind that oozed seduction with even the faintest smile. Jihan pressed his palms against Seon’s chest, his dimples flashing as he whispered softly.
“I’m sorry for being so cold to you all this time. You’ve grown up so well… and I, your sworn brother, never did anything for you. You’re right… good boy.”
Slowly, he slid his hands up to Seon’s shoulders.
“Such a good… bastard.”
Then he drove his knee into Seon’s groin.
***
As a child, when dusk fell, Jihan would play hide-and-seek with the other kids. The seeker was called the beom (tiger), and the starting point was the jin (camp). Jihan was quick on his feet and always evaded capture.
“One, two, three, four—”
While the beom counted, little Jihan would dart through the house, slipping into hiding spots—the stone pagoda by the pond, behind the main gate, the attic of the pavilion. The sprawling estate offered endless places to conceal himself. Crouched in some forgotten corner, breath held, he’d hear the beom shout:
“Ingyeong taeng bara taeng—Royal Inspector arrives!”
“Hah… hah…”
It was the dead of winter. Disheveled hair, tattered clothes—he sprinted through the empty house, but his mind was too scattered to focus. There was nowhere left to hide. The stone pagoda, the gate, the attic—all too cramped for the grown Jihan now.
But he couldn’t give up. This beom played without rules, without mercy, without conscience. In this game, surrender meant annihilation.
His legs burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurred. His toe caught on a jutting rock, and he collapsed in front of the small pavilion. The footsteps behind him slowed. The beom must’ve thought the chase was over—he’d seen Jihan sprawled on the ground.
“……”
Jihan lifted his dirt-smeared chin, teeth chattering as he scanned ahead. Beyond the stepping stones, the dark space beneath the veranda loomed. Desperation drove him to crawl toward it.
The underside of the veranda was thick with sticky spiderwebs. Just as he ducked his head beneath it, a hand seized his ankle. Drag. He was yanked back out.
With a final burst of defiance, he kicked free and crawled across the courtyard on his belly. Huu… huu… Ugly, guttural sounds escaped his twisted mouth.
Thud. Thud. Seon circled him with slow, deliberate steps. Then—he grabbed Jihan by the scruff. Jihan had no strength left to resist.
A hand slid beneath his armpit, effortlessly flipping his filthy, dust-caked body onto its back.
“You… worthless… little rat… deserve a thousand lashes…”
His lips were too numb to form words properly. His calves, exposed to the cold for too long, had gone stiff as wood. His entire body sagged, limp.
As Seon carried him, Jihan’s blurry vision caught the plum tree they’d planted the day he was born. Its bare branches trembled in the faint wind.
After a 4 hours of relentless pursuit, they returned to the annex’s main hall.
This was the jin.
***
THUD.
Jihan’s body slammed into the corner of the room. He curled inward on impact, but his spine still collided with an empty chamber pot. A silent scream clawed at his throat. Pain radiated from his elbow to his shoulder.
In the chaos, his fingers closed around a hard pillow. He clutched it like a lifeline—just as Seon lunged. Jihan sprawled beneath him, their bodies crashing together.
“Hngh… fuck—”
He cursed the flimsy undershirt—one tug and it would come undone.
Seon pinned Jihan’s thrashing body, stripping off his outer robe in a single motion. He slapped away Jihan’s hands as they tried to push him off, then twisted his arm and slammed it to the floor. Forcing apart Jihan’s clenched thighs, he tore the undergarment to shreds.
Jihan howled, pounding blindly at Seon’s shoulders, chest, face—but his weak, flailing strikes did nothing. The sounds of struggle filled the dark room: grunts of exertion, the bang, bang of folding screens hitting the wall, curses, desperate screams.
“Help—someone—hng—help! Is anyone—ngh—anyone there—?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
