"What's wrong? What are you thinking about?"
Masatake Kuji responded to the question by shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the towering man on top of him. His angular jaw had a rugged sprinkling of stubble; the bridge of his nose was thick and bent, and beast-like eyes glittered from within deep sockets. Ruining his whole look was the head of tightly-permed hair that adorned his head like a cute cloud. Kuji always came close to laughing at the sight.
"Not much."
"Whatever."
The man deftly switched positions as he began thrusting into him from behind. The walls were thin in this cheap hotel in the outskirts of town. From the room next door, they could hear muffled moans and the sounds of a bed creaking.
Kuji pressed his face against the sheets and suppressed his voice. The man's hand reached for his groin and began to rub his half-flaccid penis.
"You're high maintenance, you know that?"
"Why don't you just go ahead and come, Nango?"
"Won't do," said Nango as he pumped harder. "I like that squeeze I get when you come."
"Pervert."
"I wouldn't be here doing this if I wasn't." The man's thick fingers rubbed the tip of his penis. It felt good even through a condom, as long as he was rubbed strongly enough.
"Nh...!" Kuji made a noise in his throat. It came out of his mouth as a pitiful-sounding squeak. Kuji was still throbbing from his climax, but the man gave him no time to recover as he continued to thrust ruthlessly in and out of him.
"You sound like a rabbit getting strangled," Nango mocked as he continued his piston-like motion.
"You've - strangled - a rabbit before?" Kuji asked, his breath coming out in gasps.
"Nope. I'm not that cruel. The only things that need strangling are pieces of shit like you."
Kuji came close to retorting, "So strangling a rabbit is cruel but strangling a person isn't?" But in the end, he decided against it. He knew that if he did, the man would only make him suffer more. Nango always engaged in the act as a form of punishment toward Kuji; he knew how much Kuji hated it.
Kuji felt his hips being pushed up higher. His chest, in turn, touched the sheets. He felt the tip of the man's shaft reach deep within him, and his own wilted penis took new life again. The condom, which had begun to come off, stuck again to his swollen member.
"There we go, that's the spirit. You're always better the second time around. Make me feel good, and I'll cut you some slack."
Depending on Nango's mood that day, Kuji ended up so sapped of energy that his vision swam yellow. Kuji focused his concentration on the pleasure, and flexed his anus along with the shaft moving inside of him.
Almost... there.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and a blinding light flared behind his eyelids. Kuji thought it looked a lot like the light that streamed in through the stained-glass windows.
He saw a human figure standing in the middle of the light.
Nango peeled off his condom and tossed it in the trash. He turned around to look at Kuji.
"How about this guy?"
Kuji was stretched out on the bed as he looked at the photos on a cell phone screen. Kuji and Nango met once a week in this gays-only hotel in the Shinjuku Nichome district. After they had sex, Nango would listen to what Kuji had to report to him. Right now, Kuji was being shown several mugshots.
"Never seen him," Kuji said, shaking his head, and threw the cell phone aside. Nango, who had been sitting naked at the table with a smoke, stretched his arm and caught the phone just in time.
"You idiot," he said angrily. Once he caught the phone, Nango gathered his scattered clothes from the floor and began briskly putting them on.
"Show me your phone," he said.
"It's in the pocket of my pants. Look for yourself."
Kuji had been told to photograph anyone that visited the church. Nango used his foot to tug at Kuji's pants on the floor. He rifled through the pockets while keeping his eyes on Kuji, who was still lying on the bed.
"Wow, Nango," he said sarcastically. "Are all of you Public Safety people uptight like that?"
"You let your guard down for a split second, and it could cost you your life. You should be careful, too. If someone finds out that you're an S for us, you'll be tortured and killed."
Kuji was aware of that. But he continued to do this job, anyway. To live? No - perhaps it was to die, because he could not do so on his own. But he did not mention that.
"By whom?" he asked instead. "You think that priest would kill someone? This isn't like the cult I infiltrated last time. It's a proper Catholic church."
This time, it was Nango who did not answer. He removed the chip from the cell phone and inserted a new one. For a moment, his hard eyes softened, and harbored a strange glow.
"Masatake, we couldn't ask for a better S. We don't want to lose you."
"You mean lose the free sex, right?"
"That, too," Nango said, laughing. "The thing about you is that you don't have a presence. You blend right in, no matter where you go, and you don't linger in people's memories. You look like an average Joe, and that makes it easier for people to let their guard down. Your face is average, and you look effeminate enough not to provoke aggressive instincts in people. You're - how would I say it - an invisible man. Plus, you've got a good attitude. A lot of S's try too hard to impress us, and take things too far. That's when they end up blowing their cover."
Kuji felt no particular pride or accomplishment at being complimented for being a good S. A gopher for the police - a spy. The undercover term for it was S. But being told that he was an ideal spy wasn't exactly pleasant news to hear.
"Which means what? I'd win if I entered a pageant for spies?" Kuji said sarcastically as he sat up and crossed his legs. He stuck his index and middle finger together in a gesture, asking for a cigarette. Nango threw a box of Marlboros at him and stood up from his chair.
He walked up to Kuji, hooked a finger under his chin, and made him look up.
"Where is the subject going tomorrow?"
"Shinjuku Central Park. Going to a soup kitchen for the homeless."
"Emmaus?"
Kuji nodded.
Emmaus was an international support organization for the homeless and low-income earners. Song seemed to be working actively together with this group to support the homeless. He worked not only with Emmaus but with other non-profit organizations, as well.
"I want you to stay close to the subject, you hear?" Nango's fingers slid down to Kuji's slender throat and stopped over his thyroid cartilage. He leaned in as Kuji looked up at him.
"Your eyes are a strange color. But you look like any other guy as long as you keep your eyes down." His fingers clenched harder around his throat, and Kuji burst into a coughing fit.
"Don't give the subject any sympathy. I know exactly what's going on in your head."
Kuji's breath whistled through his constricted throat. The man's set of fingers eventually let go of him.
Nango approached the door, paying heed to any presence outside. A set of footsteps passed.
"See you next week." With that, Nango slipped through the narrow gap of the half-open door. Kuji settled back into his seat on the bed and took his time smoking his cigarette. He was supposed to let some time pass before leaving the hotel after Nango.
Halfway through his second cigarette, Kuji began to hear a strange sound coming from the back of his throat. It was the same, strained voice he made when Nango had pressed down on his thyroid cartilage. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was crying.
Yes, when this heart and flesh shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil
A life of joy and peace.
That day would never come - because I'm an S.
Kuji thought of the man whom he envisioned whenever he climaxed. Song Jin-Il - his surveillance subject.