Sergey’s bedroom had three doors—one at the end of the hallway, another at the end of the passage behind the painting, and the double sliding doors separating the sleeping area from the reception room. Each door required both fingerprint and retina scans. Cameras were installed every foot, tracking every movement in the room. By now, Taekjoo had to know what the man was hiding so carefully inside that massive chamber.
Sergey personally slid the double doors. The space inside was vast, with a bed at its center big enough for ten people. A long tiger pelt was draped over the purplish sheets, nearly twelve feet long. Each strand of fur seemed alive, the vivid yellow eyes glinting with lifelike intensity. Taekjoo wondered how anyone could sleep with that thing under him at night and concluded that he would never understand the bizarre tastes of the rich.
The room even had a wide bathtub, a clear sign of its owner’s determination to indulge in depravity.
Taekjoo walked around the bed, eyeing the secret space behind it. According to the floor plan, it was a sizable hidden room.
“Would you like a drink? I happen to have an excellent scotch.”
Sergey offered Taekjoo a drink. His tone shifted as they entered the bedroom, and his gaze grew more grotesque as he scanned Taekjoo head to toe. Taekjoo took the glass, immediately noticing undiluted white powder on the ice—an obvious trick. He merely pretended to sip.
Sergey walked past Taekjoo and sat on the bed, studying Taekjoo’s every feature like he was an object on display in a shop window. His eyes roamed over Taekjoo, slow and deliberate, and it was revolting. Taekjoo placed the untouched glass on the table.
“Where is the product you mentioned?”
“Slow down, now. No need to rush, right? The night is long.”
Sergey’s eyes narrowed to creepy slits. A drop of scotch trickled down his glass, and he licked it up with his thick, fat tongue. It was repulsive. Taekjoo had to look away. When he looked back, Sergey had finished his drink and was standing up. Then, locking eyes with Taekjoo, he began undressing piece by piece.
He peeled off his shirt, then stepped forward. He dropped his pants and moved another step closer. In no time, he stood just in his briefs—and the distance between them nearly gone. Sergey panted, his breath hot close against Taekjoo’s neck.
Taekjoo just gritted his teeth and endured in silence. Sergey moved behind him, brushing a hand lightly across his waist before pulling him into a firm embrace. He squeezed Taekjoo’s chest hard as if he wanted to crush it. Then, he traced the defined line of his abs with greedy fingers.
Taekjoo stared into space and drew a deep breath. There’s an old saying in Korea—hold back your anger three times and you’ll avoid murder. Taekjoo restrained himself with every fiber of his being. But then, something stiff pressed against his thigh. He could feel its heat even through his pants.
Taekjoo’s mood plummeted. He clenched his jaw tightly. Sergey, oblivious, kept grinding his bulge against Taekjoo’s leg. His hot breath washed over Taekjoo’s neck. It felt like tiny insects were crawling through his veins. It also felt like a rutting pig was clinging to his back, panting.
Taekjoo, who had been staring blankly, finally spoke.
“I just can’t...”
“Mmmhh... Ahhh—what? Huh?”
Sergey was now completely naked. He pressed himself flat against Taekjoo, panting. His fat hand slid along Taekjoo’s side, then down toward his crotch. Taekjoo caught his hand, gripping it tightly. Sergey misread the gesture as encouragement and leaned in to lick Taekjoo’s neck. That was when he went flying through the air.
Sergey was hurled into the air, his vision spinning. Taekjoo had thrown the heavy man over his shoulder with brutal force.
Sergey landed headfirst, dazed and disoriented. He struggled to grasp what had just happened. Shock washed over him. He had never imagined this outcome.
“Can’t stand this anymore. You should know when to stop, you pig.”
Taekjoo muttered, smoothing out his ruffled shirt. He also wiped the drool from his neck in disgust.
Just then, Taekjoo’s phone rang. The number wasn’t saved, but it looked familiar. It was Yun Jongwoo.
Taekjoo remembered the favor he had asked for and picked up immediately. Before he could say anything, Jongwoo’s voice exploded through the speaker.
- Sunbaenim![8]
The sudden yell made Taekjoo wince. He jerked the phone away from his ear, grimacing. But Yun Jongwoo kept ranting, spouting nonsense.
“What’s wrong with you? Did you handle that favor I asked?”
– Who are you with right now? He’s—!
“What are you on about?”
Taekjoo yanked the phone away again. The signal was there, but the connection was poor. He figured it was probably just the location. The harsh Siberian cold felt it could freeze even sound waves.
But why would Jongwoo ask who Taekjoo was with? Was he watching through some hacked CCTV feed? Taekjoo turned around—and flinched. Sergey, sprawled on the bed moments ago, was gone.
Taekjoo scanned the room quickly, but it was too late. Sergey suddenly lunged at him. Taekjoo caught him by the wrist, but in doing so, had to drop his phone to defend himself. He managed to block the attack, but Sergey’s weight drove them both onto the bed.
Sergey landed on top of him, pressing his entire weight down. In the hand Taekjoo grabbed, there was a syringe. It was now empty, though just moments ago, it had seemed full. It wasn’t hard to guess, with a single clear drop still clinging to the needle.
He rammed a knee into Sergey’s gut and followed up with a firm press against a vital point. Sergey thrashed in pain, but soon went limp.
“Damn it.”