05: Phobia — +18

August 26, 2018

Baek Junseo.

Takayama, Japan. 7:35 PM.

The night felt emptier than ever, despite the moonlight. The air was colder than in the morning, and the echo of my footsteps disturbed the silence. My first day back at school had ended, leaving me with a bitter taste and a strange feeling. I couldn't remember the last time I was so eager for a new day, though my excitement stemmed more from wanting to finish my work and return home than from any genuine anticipation.

I went to a nearby convenience store to grab something to eat. I hadn't adjusted to Japanese food yet, but hunger made me settle for whatever was available. I had neglected to eat earlier, and my stomach wasn't pleased with just the few bites Alexandra had offered me.

The Ryokakku family—just thinking about them made me sigh.

I entered the house, removed my shoes, and walked to the small kitchen. After preparing some instant noodles and microwave rice, I sat down to report my findings while eating. Communication with my country was complicated. I had to send monthly letters with secret codes disguised as messages to my supposed parents. For the first month, however, I was given a satellite call for a brief summary of my initial observations.

On my laptop screen was Hyuk Chae Min, wearing his usual ridiculous suit and office glasses, which made him look even older.

"I see you finally cut your hair."

I couldn't help but scowl at his comment.

"It's school policy," I murmured to avoid sounding too rude. I took a bite of my noodles, hoping he would speak again with his usual irritating, ironic tone.

"We've gathered more information about 'The Lamp's Genius,' and other weapon designs that may have been marketed by Kuznetsov. I'll send you an encrypted portfolio with all the documents soon," he said, pausing, signaling he wanted a summary of what I had seen.

Swallowing before speaking, I wiped my lips with a napkin.

"It wasn't hard to get close to Alexandra, though she keeps her distance. I think she expects something from me, and I'll use that to my advantage. Vasiliy is a madman. There's no way I can reason with someone like that. His strength, his height—nothing about him seems normal. Does he really only have seventeen ?"

I pointed to my lip, which, though no longer swollen or red, still showed signs of the beating.

"He did this, and all I did was talk to his twin sister. He's the real problem. They must know what their parents are doing; their reflexes are too sharp, and they're always on alert, watching my every move. It's exhausting."

"Junseo, be careful,"

He said, his voice sounding strange—almost like he cared.

"This isn't official, but there are rumors Kuznetsov is a failed doctor who sought to create the 'super man.' His twisted ideals led him to commit horrific acts with genetics, manipulating it to his will. His children aren't normal."

"Since when do you believe in rumors?"

"It's a feeling," he replied, his eyes serious, revealing for the first time that he was truly afraid.

Fear. My boss, the calmest man I had ever met, was afraid. A chill ran down my spine, and my body instinctively responded to the unknown. Shortly after, the call ended, and the encrypted documents arrived on my disposable laptop.

I finished my dinner, which was accompanied by an onigiri and a strangely flavored soda. I spent the rest of the night reading through the documents, memorizing them one by one. There were only assumptions about what these designs represented—important names, important faces. By the time I finished, sleep had completely eluded me, and it was well past midnight. I closed the laptop, rubbing my eyes to ward off the fatigue. The overwhelming information gave me a headache, and though I knew I wouldn't sleep, I wanted to rest. I dragged myself to my room and lay down on the futon, staring at the ceiling.

The events of the day replayed in my mind, detailing every little thing I could remember, no matter how insignificant. It was a habit.

I couldn't stop thinking about him—Vasiliy Ryokakku. There was something that wouldn't let me push him from my mind.

His voice was deep, rough, with warmth disguised by coldness, a tone that suited his native language too well, though I was dying to hear him speak Japanese. His hands were large enough to grab me with ease and exert such pressure that I could still feel his fingers pressing into my skull. He smelled like a vineyard, mixed with the rustic scent of wood soaked in liquor. He was tall—very tall—and the thought that he was only seventeen terrified me. It was hard to believe he still had room to grow. His eyes, though I hadn't seen them clearly, were honey-green, framed by an excess of lashes. I remembered how his body surrounded me like a wall, making me feel small—very small. The sensation was strange. Reflexively, I touched my injured lip. It didn't hurt much, but it was uncomfortable to eat. If I hadn't resisted, I might have ended up with a broken nose.

I sighed softly, turning onto my side on the futon.

I wanted to know what he had said before he released me. Despite the derogatory tone, there had been a trace of charm in how he said it. He had been so close that for a moment, our breaths had mingled. He radiated brutality, like a predator hunting its prey. Perhaps he was only protecting his sister or satisfying his grotesque desire for violence. Either way, I was certain that if I ever tried to face him, one blow would be all it would take.

It was too hot. My entire body burned. In response, I took off my shirt, hoping for some relief, but only felt more heat, strange sensations coursing through my body. I felt his gaze on the back of my neck, remembering his breath. Was it tobacco, coffee? What was it?

A gasp escaped me, embarrassed at the excessive friction with my grey sweatshirt that warned of an erection. An uncontrollable reaction, but still so embarrassing.

It must have been a coincidence.

Although it was true that I had ignored my sexual needs for a while, I didn't think I was sensitive enough to be thrilled by the idea of ​​a bastard younger than me, or the idea of ​​dying at his hands. I slid my right hand until I wrapped my palm over my dick. With gentle massages from the base, which gradually increased, progressively becoming more violent and desperate. From top to bottom, with my thumb on the tip to massage a little. My mind clouded, not a single thought other than those eyes, those eyes that I would have liked to observe better, those eyes that wanted to eat me from the beginning, that looked at me with so much hatred. With my left hand I covered my mouth, silencing the heavy panting and my moans. I rested my forehead on the pillow, not stopping my movements. My eyes closed and sweat accumulated. For a moment I took my hand away from my face to reach my shirt, this way I would avoid a disaster. A curse left my lips because being on the verge of ecstasy I could only remember him. His dark brown locks tinted white because of his hair birthmark, his green eyes full of hunger and his bestial strength. I bit my lower lip, avoiding moaning his name so as not to feel so pathetic. Jerking for a few more long minutes that resulted in abundant jets of discharge trapped by the shirt.

—Shit.

Back on my back again, with my arm over my forehead while I tried to regulate my breathing, I felt sleepiness come to me almost immediately. Yeah, I just had to sleep. It would all be part of a dream, a bad dream that I should not repeat in my head. Even if I did not know how to face what happened, I had to make my effort to ignore it until I fully understood it. Or maybe just not to think about it anymore and put it among the strange things that happen after twenty. I laughed at myself, at my stupidity. It was impossible that all of this had to do with Vasiliy, I was just a bit sexually frustrated. Yes, that was all.

With that thought, I managed to sleep peacefully.