Yurin Gets Cucked (3)

Jealousy, guilt, anger, confusion, disappointment—

Yurin's face flickered with a storm of emotions.

Seon-ah's actions might've been coerced by threats, but they weren't words a guy with a girlfriend should've uttered so easily. With a murderous glare, Yurin spat at Min-ji, "Don't ever see Seon-ah again. Unless you want to die."

"…"

Min-ji, who'd been confessed to hours ago and had just raped him, hung her head in silence. Then she picked up Seon-ah's scattered clothes and handed them to him.

Yurin turned to him, venom dripping from her voice. "You—don't even talk to other girls anymore. This can't go on. That filthy body of yours, seducing this girl and that one, catching the eye of some psycho bitch who put you through this? And you still call yourself mine?"

A barrage of accusations rained down on him.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Seon-ah could only murmur apologies, drowning in guilt.

Soon after, Hwaryong Guild hunters stormed in. They questioned them about the legless stalker and the dead bodies as part of their investigation. After recounting everything, the inquiry wrapped up as dawn broke. Yurin dragged Seon-ah home, leaving Min-ji behind—half-dressed, dazed, and frozen.

Back at home, Seon-ah's ordeal—kidnapping, assault, and life-threatening terror—had ended, but the tension lingered. Reflecting on it, he realized he didn't know how Yurin had found him. The couple's location app they'd installed together was the likely answer—it was the first thing that came to mind.

The stalker had targeted him, but why Min-ji got dragged in too, he couldn't explain. He half-expected Yurin to demand answers, but she said nothing. It was as if she already knew everything.

Still fuming, she'd gripped his arm the whole way from the scene to the house. At times, her trembling hand squeezed so hard it felt like it might shatter his bones—her rage and excitement too much to control. Whenever he winced in pain, her grip eased slightly but never let go, like a child terrified of losing their prized possession.

"Seon-ah, let's wash up first," she said.

His body, violated earlier, was caked with Min-ji's dried fluids.

"Uh… okay…"

Exhausted enough to collapse into bed and pass out, he didn't dare refuse Yurin—not knowing what she might do.

As he stripped and stepped into the bathroom, Yurin followed him in.

"You're tired and worn out, right? I'll wash you."

He nodded wearily, too drained to argue. Glancing at his arm where she'd gripped him, he saw a blue, hand-shaped bruise throbbing faintly. This wasn't the usual Yurin—the one who'd never hurt him without reason. Something was different.

He could've refused, saying he'd wash alone, but one wrong word now might unleash something worse. She turned on the warm shower, running it over every inch of his body. But when her hand brushed the slick spot near his groin—where Min-ji's fluids had lingered—her breathing grew ragged.

The gentle washing turned rough, her hands scrubbing harder, as if trying to erase something indelible.

"Yurin, it hurts… please, go easy," he pleaded, the pain overwhelming him.

"Seon-ah," she said, her voice low, "I trusted you, you know. Even if you're a lewd guy, I believed you wouldn't mess around with other girls."

He flinched.

"And yet, you confessed to Min-ji, didn't you?"

Her plan to curb Yurin's obsession had backfired, worsening everything—he felt it now. He tried to explain, to apologize.

"I'm sorry, there was a reason. I—"

She cut him off, her near-lightless eyes boring into him with a look of disgust. "Did it feel good getting fucked like a dog by that bitch? Is that why you were moaning under her? Even with me right there watching?"

In that desperate moment, being taken by Min-ji—her tight, enveloping grip pulling him in—he couldn't help but groan, though it paled next to Yurin's intensity. But to her, that didn't matter. The confession and the forced act in her presence were enough—he'd fully cheated, and he knew it.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Tears welled up, the kind men call their trump card. He'd foreseen a day when her misunderstandings and mental pressure would corner him, but he'd never cried in front of her—not in 15 years. That first night, his eyes had only misted. Now, real tears streamed down, raw and honest, startling Yurin more than her own anger.

Her fury didn't vanish, but the urge to berate him faded. After a long silence following his tears, she spoke first, her expression resigned.

"Seon-ah, I'll let it slide just this once. But you're dropping out of university."

Her tone was cold, final.

"Okay… I'll quit."

Min-ji wasn't a gossip, but the investigation would drag her in repeatedly. Someone at school would catch wind, and rumors of his involvement would spread—he'd already considered dropping out.

"And don't leave the house for a while."

"Got it."

He agreed, desperate for her forgiveness.

"Let's finish washing and sleep."

Her anger seemed to have cooled slightly, but as she washed his groin, her trembling hands tightened again. His member—red and swollen from Min-ji's relentless assault—drew a dead, chilling stare from her. Unlike caressing, she scrubbed it harshly, the pain making him twitch. She didn't seem to notice, lost in her repetition.

Eventually, she snapped out of it, rinsing him with soap and water, then drying him with a towel and hairdryer. Normally, she'd hand him pajamas, but something felt off. Leading him to the bedroom still naked, her soothing felt like a prelude to something darker.

As he lay bare on the bed, Yurin stripped too. They faced each other, naked—familiar from countless weekends, yet different this time.

"Seon-ah, I've been thinking about something," she began.

"…What?"

It felt like she was gearing up for sex. Since returning, his body—exhausted from the kidnapping and assault—screamed for sleep, but washing had only deepened his fatigue, his eyes half-closed.

"They say most guys can't even get it up their first time if they're virgins. But with me, you were rock hard, weren't you?"

He knew little about this world's male sexual norms—never bothered to look it up, since men in his past life rarely did.

"And despite having no stamina, you couldn't settle for one or two rounds. You kept getting hard, begging me to fuck you—a lewd body like that. Even when you pass out, it still stands, doesn't it?"

At first, he'd chalked it up to a youthful body's heightened lust. But she was right—this body was abnormal. In his past life, he'd managed three or four rounds at most. Now, even drained, it stayed up past fifteen—only stopping around twenty when the pain kicked in, a pattern he'd learned with Yurin.

"So, for my lewd Seon-ah, I'll 'manage' your sex drive every day. That way, you won't have any reason to confess to or talk up other girls."

Daily sex with Yurin—now an awakened—would kill him fast. Her stamina wouldn't falter. Imagining himself wrung dry like a rag sparked a grotesque fear, and his true feelings slipped out.

"But that's a bit…"

Terrified, he'd blurted out his refusal.

"Seon-ah," she said quietly, "I said I'd forgive you once. If you don't listen…"

Her voice carried a lethal edge. "You die, and I die with you."

Her killing intent hit hard, making him tremble—not from cold, since her house was warm. Nodding faintly, she reached out, stroking his head like he'd done well. Then, leaning close, she whispered in his ear.

"Let's start with today's management."

Her hand found his groin, already stiff from the earlier washing, and began to move.