Ginn ....

Her lips were swollen and red, assaulted by the relentless attack of his lips—bruised, marked with faint impressions of his teeth. Every brush, every bite had been fierce, demanding.

Now, they ached.

Her breasts throbbed with pain, still reeling from the way his rough hands had gripped, squeezed, taken.

And yet, again, he invaded her mouth—his lips claiming hers like a storm. But this time… something was different.

Something inside her shifted.

It wasn't just the pain. It wasn't just the intensity.

Something deeper stirred—no, not stirred—resisted.

Like an ancient instinct rising from within her soul, clawing to escape.

What was it?

What was resisting?

Whom was it resisting?

The questions poured in, but before she could grasp them—

Her body convulsed.

A sharp, searing pain coursed through her as black, pulsating veins bloomed across her once-pristine white skin, like cracks in porcelain. Her body trembled violently as if something… no, someone, was ripping her soul from within.

It felt like death.

No—worse. It was soul-wrenching, terrifying. Every second stretched into eternity.

Fifteen long minutes.

Fifteen minutes of him still pressed against her lips, sealing her breath. Any normal person would've perished, choked out by the lack of air.

But she wasn't normal.

Her mother's ruthless training had taught her endurance—how to hold her breath in crushing pressure. It saved her life… but only barely.

When he finally withdrew, a trail of black smoke slipped from her lips—whispery, sinister. It flowed like a dying spirit escaping its cage. As it left her body, the dark veins slowly receded, one by one, leaving pale, vulnerable skin behind.

The process lasted seven minutes.

By the time he let go, she collapsed to the floor like a broken doll—gasping, shaking.

Gasp~gasp...

Her body was pale as moonlight, trembling, fragile. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her soul crying in silence.

Footsteps echoed—calm, deliberate. She could barely lift her head. But she saw… the legs. His legs. Standing tall beside the bed.

Gathering whatever strength she could muster, she looked up—and froze.

A boy.

Dark black hair. Blackish-red eyes. A pale, devilish face.

He sat on the bed, casually holding a… thing.

A mass of swirling black smoke, as large as a bucket—shaped like it was drawn with a shaking hand. The longer she looked, the more it twisted reality, hurting her eyes like a parasite crawling across her vision.

It came from her.

That thing… came from inside her.

She shivered violently. She hadn't known—hadn't even sensed it. What was it? How long had it been inside her?

Fear. Helplessness. Shame.

And then… his voice.

"A Ginn, huh."

His voice was smooth—too smooth. It slithered into her ears like venom.

She forced her eyes upward, glaring through the pain, trying to defy him with her stare. He was attractive. Sinfully so. And for a fleeting moment, the thought betrayed her heart.

No… no… what am I thinking?

Disgusting… wretched... I can't… I mustn't...

She tried to stand, resolve burning within her—but her legs failed. She collapsed, still naked, barely managing to cover herself. Her fall caught his attention.

He looked at her, that cursed grin still etched across his face. He crossed one leg, leaned forward, and with mocking amusement whispered,

"You know, I'm busy. Stop trying to seduce me with that sexy body of yours."

Her eyes burned with rage. Hatred.

She hated him.

With trembling strength, she rose, forgetting her nakedness, forgetting her magic, forgetting everything—and struck at him with her bare hand.

He caught her easily, and without hesitation, pulled her into his lap.

Now she sat—exposed, humiliated, her soft curves pressed against his body.

He inhaled the scent of her hair and whispered in her ear with chilling intimacy:

"You couldn't wait your turn, huh? Throwing yourself at me like this... Seems like you want my gift too."

"Bastard… huff… let me go… LET ME GO!"

"Relax," he said, like a whisper through thorns. "We've got something much more interesting here."

Her anger froze.

That thing.

That black… twisting thing.

She didn't want to look, but her eyes kept pulling back to it. It came from her.

Despite everything screaming inside her not to speak, she asked—

"…What is it?"

He raised the dark mass closer to her face. She flinched instinctively, pressing back against his chest, her arms tightening around his neck.

"Ahh… ahhhh…"

(Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the black.)

He chuckled.

She stayed silent, still trembling, but didn't move.

"It's a Ginn. Ever heard of one?"

"N-No…"

"So your mother never told you," he said with a mocking smirk.

"Don't… don't bring her into this! You don't know her, you sick bastard!"

He fell silent. The air thickened.

Then she whispered again, softer this time. "So… what is it?"

"A Ginn," he repeated. "Something used to monitor, control… or curse someone."

Her face drained of color.

"No… that's… that's impossible…"

She shook her head, violently.

"No! Why would that be in me!? You're lying! This is yours! You put it in me!"

Her panic took over. Her breath hitched, thoughts spiraling. She couldn't—wouldn't—accept it.

But then he pinched her nipple sharply.

"Ahh—!"

Her body tensed, and her mind snapped back.

"Believe it, or don't. Just stop mumbling nonsense in my ear. It's annoying."

She stared at him, trying to decipher whether his indifference was truth… or manipulation. Could this really have been inside her?

She didn't want to believe. But she needed to know.

"Why was it inside me?" she finally asked.

He smirked. "Someone put it in."

"I mean how!?" she demanded, voice raw.

"Why the hell would I know?"

"Because…" she took a deep breath, "you know more than you're saying."

He watched her for a moment, then sighed.

"A Ginn is a spirit summoned from an external realm and sealed directly inside a person's body. But the process… is long. Very long."

He stared at the mass again, eyes narrowing as if trying to read its secrets.

She remained still, her heart pounding.

Uncertain.

Afraid.

But listening.