Chapter 56 – #13_Latifundium(5)
#55
1.
“Hurry up.”
I wanted to resolve this amicably if possible.
Siwoo slowly moved his hand to Odette’s buttocks.
“Hick…!”
The moment Siwoo’s hand, wet and cold from the gel-like substance, touched her butt crack, Odette shuddered.
He could feel the goosebumps rising on her pale buttocks.
“Odette, are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
Logically, Siwoo could just do it and feel good.
He might even get an achievement like ‘Slave who opened the anal passages of twin witches.’
But he wasn’t really in the mood.
When he did things with Odile, his lust was somewhat aroused, but Odette was a different case.
Odile had already overcome her shame, embarrassment, and fear of the unknown, purely to satisfy her curiosity.
But what about Odette?
She was just awkwardly imitating her sister without knowing anything. How could he do something terrible to someone trembling like this?
Siwoo carefully spread Odette’s buttocks.
“Could you spread your legs a little more?”
“Y-yes…”
See?
She was threatening him just a moment ago, but as soon as he touched her, she couldn’t move.
Odette flinched and spread her legs shoulder-width apart.
“Push your hips back a bit more. And your butt too.”
Odette made an awkward arch and stuck her butt out.
Whether it was from the alcohol or the blush of embarrassment, her buttocks were as red as a ripe peach.
“Hmm….”
Come to think of it, he heard that the shape of the anal wrinkles is genetic.
Odette’s butt wrinkles were exactly the same as Odile’s.
If Gehenna had a butt-recognition door lock, they could open each other’s doors.
Odette turned around abruptly.
She couldn’t stand it any longer when Siwoo hesitated without doing anything.
“La~ la la lala~”
Her mouth opened.
What came out was a mysterious melody, like a confession poem.
It was a captivating and somewhat sensual tune, reminiscent of a siren’s song.
“W-what is that?”
Siwoo sensed an ominous sign.
As soon as he heard the song, his head spun as if he had been hypnotized.
His pulse quickened as if he had been injected with adrenaline.
His pupils dilated, allowing him to see clearly inside the dark warehouse.
“…I’m not going to tell you.”
Odette said that and turned to face forward as before.
Siwoo didn’t have enough time to feel a sense of crisis at her suspicious reaction.
“Ugh…!”
Odette’s bare buttocks were in front of him.
Without even realizing it, Siwoo’s gaze went to Odette’s tightly closed lower lip.
It was clearly a captivating scene.
The naive sneer of a virgin who doesn’t yet know the taste of a man.
A tight, narrow hole that looked like it would clamp down the moment a finger was inserted was visible between the plump folds of flesh.
“Wha… What kind of magic did you cast?”
But what flustered Siwoo was the clearly abnormal reaction in his lower body.
Odette still didn’t say anything.
But from the start, Siwoo wasn’t given much leeway with time.
The growing sexual desire was clearly surpassing reason.
It feels like someone is constantly whispering in my ear.
Siwoo tried to leave the storage room immediately.
He didn’t have the confidence to keep his sanity any longer.
It was the first time he had ever felt such a huge and intense sexual desire.
And that arrow of lust would probably be aimed at Odette, who was standing in front of him with her buttocks exposed.
He had to run away.
As he turned toward the door, Odette’s buttocks caught Siwoo’s eye again.
Siwoo looked down at his lower body.
A grotesquely engorged cock, its veins bulging and standing rigidly erect.
Why do I have to leave here?
We move forward slowly.
“Hoo… hoo….”
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, antique-looking music box. The kind you might see in an old movie. The box was made of dark wood, and the surface was intricately carved with swirling patterns. It was beautiful, but it was also unsettling. It felt like it had a story to tell, a secret it was guarding.
I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no card, no return address. Just the box, sitting on my doorstep, as if it had materialized out of thin air. I tried to remember if I had ordered anything online, but nothing came to mind.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the lid. A delicate melody filled the room. It was a tune I had never heard before, but it felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, but it also made me feel a little uneasy.
I closed the lid, and the music stopped. I opened it again, and the melody started anew. I did this several times, each time feeling a mix of fascination and apprehension.
I decided to put the music box on my desk, thinking I would figure out what to do with it later. But as I sat down to work, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced around the room, but there was no one there. It was just me and the music box.
I tried to focus on my work, but the melody kept playing in my head. It was like a persistent whisper, a secret message that I couldn’t quite decipher. I found myself opening the box again and again, drawn to its mysterious charm.
As the days passed, the music box became a constant presence in my life. I would play it when I was happy, when I was sad, when I was bored. It was like a companion, a silent friend who understood my every mood.
But there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was like the music box was changing me, subtly, slowly. I started to see things differently, to feel things more intensely. It was as if the music was unlocking something within me, something that had been dormant for a long time.
I knew that the music box was more than just a pretty object. It was a key, a gateway to something unknown. And I had a feeling that my life was about to change forever.
“Odette started it first, you know?”
It’s ridiculous to think I was so easily manipulated by such a small, insignificant brat.
Siwoo spread Odette’s pudding-like, trembling buttocks wide open.
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years she had lived. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief as she looked at me.
“So, you’re the one they’re calling the ‘genius’?” she cackled, her voice raspy like dry leaves crunching underfoot. “Well, let’s see if you’re as smart as they say.”
I bowed my head slightly, a gesture of respect, though I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. I was here to solve a problem, not to be judged by some old woman. But I knew better than to show my irritation.
“I will do my best,” I replied, my voice calm and even.
She chuckled again, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the small, cluttered room. “Best isn’t good enough, young man. You need to be better than your best.”
I didn’t respond, just waited for her to continue. She was clearly enjoying this little game, and I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me sweat.
“Alright then,” she said, finally, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s start with something simple. Why is the sky blue?”
I blinked, surprised by the question. It was so basic, so… obvious. But I knew better than to underestimate her. This wasn’t a simple question, it was a test.
“The sky is blue due to a phenomenon called Rayleigh scattering,” I began, my voice taking on a more academic tone. “Sunlight, which is composed of all colors of the spectrum, enters the Earth’s atmosphere. The shorter wavelengths, like blue and violet, are scattered more by the air molecules than the longer wavelengths, like red and orange. Because our eyes are more sensitive to blue than violet, we perceive the sky as blue.”
The old woman listened intently, her eyes never leaving my face. When I finished, she was silent for a moment, her lips pursed in thought.
“Interesting,” she finally said, her voice softer now. “But that’s just the textbook answer, isn’t it?”
I nodded, acknowledging her point. “It is the scientific explanation, yes.”
“But what about the poetry of it?” she asked, her eyes twinkling again. “What about the feeling of looking up at that vast expanse of blue and feeling… small? What about the mystery of it all?”
I paused, considering her words. She was right, of course. Science could explain the mechanics of the world, but it couldn’t capture the wonder of it.
“I suppose,” I said slowly, “that the blue of the sky is also a reminder of the vastness of the universe, and the smallness of our place within it. It’s a color that inspires awe and contemplation.”
The old woman smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. “Now you’re talking,” she said. “Now you’re starting to understand.”
She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting towards the window. “The world isn’t just about facts and figures, young man. It’s about feeling, about connection, about the things that can’t be measured or explained.”
I nodded, feeling a shift in my perspective. I had come here thinking I was the genius, the one with all the answers. But this old woman, with her wrinkled face and mischievous eyes, was teaching me something far more valuable.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice sincere.
She chuckled again, the sound lighter this time. “Don’t thank me yet, young genius. We’ve only just begun.”
“Crouch down further.”
Odet, startled by the growling voice, briefly glanced away as if she were cheating, but obediently followed Siwoo’s instructions. She lowered her upper body and pushed her hips further back.
“Haa…!”
The first day of school.
I was so nervous that I couldn’t even swallow my saliva. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my hands were sweating. I was so worried that I might make a mistake, so I kept checking my clothes and my hair. I was so nervous that I felt like I was going to throw up.
“Are you okay?”
My mom, who was watching me, asked with a worried face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I replied with a forced smile, but I was actually far from fine. I was so nervous that I felt like I was going to faint.
“Don’t be too nervous. You’ll do great.”
My mom patted me on the back and gave me a warm smile. Her smile always gave me strength.
“Okay, I’ll do my best.”
I replied with a big smile. I was still nervous, but I felt a little better.
“Then, let’s go.”
My mom and I left the house. The weather was nice, and the sky was clear. It was a perfect day for the first day of school.
We arrived at the school. There were so many students. They were all wearing the same uniform, but they all looked different. Some were laughing, some were talking, and some were just standing there. I felt like I was in a different world.
“Okay, I’ll leave you here.”
My mom said with a worried face.
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
I replied with a smile. I was still nervous, but I didn’t want to show it to my mom.
“Good luck!”
My mom waved her hand and left. I watched her until she disappeared, and then I turned around. I took a deep breath and started walking towards the school building.
The school was huge. It was so much bigger than my elementary school. I felt like I was lost in a maze. I looked around, trying to find my classroom.
“Excuse me, do you know where the first-year classroom is?”
I asked a student who was walking by.
“Oh, it’s over there.”
The student pointed to a direction.
“Thank you.”
I bowed my head and walked in the direction the student had pointed. I finally found my classroom. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
There were already a lot of students in the classroom. They were all talking and laughing. I felt like I was the only one who was nervous. I looked around, trying to find an empty seat.
“Hey, you can sit here.”
A girl with a bright smile waved her hand at me.
“Oh, thank you.”
I walked over to the girl and sat down next to her.
“Hi, I’m Kim Minji.”
The girl introduced herself with a smile.
“Hi, I’m Lee Hana.”
I replied with a smile. I was still nervous, but I felt a little better.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hana.”
Minji said with a bright smile.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Minji.”
I replied with a smile. I felt like I had made a new friend.
The first day of school was a bit nerve-wracking, but it was also exciting. I was looking forward to the new school year.
I was born into a family that ran a small restaurant.
My parents were always busy, so I spent most of my childhood alone. I was a quiet child, and I didn’t have many friends. I preferred to read books or draw pictures by myself.
When I was in elementary school, I started to help out at the restaurant. I washed dishes, served food, and cleaned tables. It was hard work, but I didn’t mind. I liked being around people, even if I didn’t talk to them much.
As I got older, I became more interested in cooking. I would watch my mother in the kitchen, and I would try to imitate her. I started to experiment with different recipes, and I found that I had a knack for it.
When I graduated from high school, I decided to go to culinary school. I wanted to learn everything I could about cooking. I studied hard, and I graduated at the top of my class.
After graduation, I got a job at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was a challenging job, but I loved it. I learned so much from the other chefs, and I was able to hone my skills.
I worked at the restaurant for several years, and then I decided to open my own place. It was a small restaurant, but it was mine. I put my heart and soul into it, and it quickly became popular.
I’m still running my restaurant today. It’s not always easy, but I love what I do. I love the challenge of creating new dishes, and I love seeing people enjoy my food.
I’m not sure what the future holds, but I know that I’ll always be a chef. It’s who I am, and it’s what I love to do.
Odette’s faint groan doesn’t reach Siwoo’s ears.
It’s a shame he can’t break her hymen, but her backdoor is enough for now.
Consideration, concession, concern.
I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about such bothersome things until now.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, worn-out notebook. The cover was a faded blue, and the pages inside were yellowed with age. There was no name or any other identifying mark on it, just a single word written in messy handwriting on the first page.
‘Record.’
I didn’t know who had sent it or why. I had no memory of ever seeing such a notebook before. I was living alone, and I didn’t have any family or friends who would send me a gift like this.
I opened the notebook with a strange sense of anticipation. The first few pages were blank, but then, starting from the middle, there were some entries written in the same messy handwriting as the word on the first page.
‘Day 1. I saw it again today. The shadow that follows me. It’s always there, lurking in the corners of my vision. I can’t tell if it’s real or just my imagination.’
‘Day 3. I tried to talk to it. I asked it what it wanted, but it didn’t answer. It just stood there, silent and still. It felt like it was watching me, observing me.’
‘Day 7. I’m starting to feel scared. I can’t sleep at night. I keep thinking about the shadow. What if it’s not just a shadow? What if it’s something else?’
The entries continued like this, each one more unsettling than the last. The writer seemed to be going through a period of intense fear and paranoia. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease as I read through them.
I closed the notebook and looked around my room. It was just as it always was, quiet and peaceful. But now, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was being watched.
I decided to ignore the notebook and go to bed. But even as I lay there, trying to fall asleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about the shadow. What was it? And why was it following the writer of the notebook?
I finally managed to fall asleep, but my dreams were filled with dark shapes and shadowy figures. I woke up feeling tired and anxious.
I picked up the notebook again and started reading. The entries were becoming more and more disturbing. The writer was starting to lose their grip on reality.
‘Day 15. I think it’s getting closer. I can feel it breathing down my neck. I can hear it whispering my name. I’m not safe anymore.’
‘Day 20. I’m going to try to run away. I can’t stay here anymore. I have to get away from the shadow. I have to escape.’
The last entry was dated ‘Day 25.’ It was just one word.
‘Gone.’
I closed the notebook, my heart pounding in my chest. What had happened to the writer? Had they managed to escape the shadow? Or had the shadow finally caught up to them?
I looked around my room again. The shadows seemed to be deeper and darker than before. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was being watched.
I decided to go out for a walk. I needed to get some fresh air and clear my head. But even as I walked down the street, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the shadow was still there, lurking in the corners of my vision.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who had sent me the notebook or why. But I knew that I couldn’t ignore it. I had to find out what had happened to the writer. And I had to find out what the shadow was.
I opened the notebook again and started reading from the beginning. I was determined to find the truth, no matter how disturbing it might be.
“Eek….! Sniff…! Sniff…!”
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years she’d weathered. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief, and her hands, gnarled and knotted, moved with a surprising agility as she kneaded the dough. The scent of sesame oil and garlic filled the small kitchen, a familiar comfort that had permeated the walls for decades.
“Hurry up, you slowpoke,” she grumbled, her voice raspy like dried leaves rustling in the wind. “The customers will be here soon, and you’re still dawdling.”
I chuckled, wiping my hands on my apron. “I’m doing my best, Grandma. It’s not easy to make these dumplings as perfectly as you do.”
She snorted, a sound like a rusty hinge creaking open. “Perfect? Hah! You’ll never be as good as me. But you’re getting there, I suppose.”
I grinned, knowing that was high praise coming from her. Grandma was a tough critic, but her heart was as warm as the broth simmering on the stove. She’d taught me everything I knew about cooking, about life, about the importance of family and tradition.
“These dumplings are going to be the best yet,” I declared, carefully arranging them on a tray. “Just you wait and see.”
She gave me a skeptical look, but a hint of a smile played on her lips. “We’ll see about that, young one. We’ll see.”
The bell above the door jingled, announcing the arrival of our first customers. Grandma straightened her apron, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. It was time to start another day, another chapter in our family’s story, one dumpling at a time.
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to a life lived under the harsh sun. Her hands, gnarled and knotted like ancient tree roots, moved with surprising dexterity as she kneaded the dough. The scent of sesame oil and garlic filled the small kitchen, a comforting aroma that had been a constant in my life.
“Are you going out again tonight, Soojin?” she asked, her voice raspy but kind.
I nodded, not meeting her gaze. “Yeah, just for a bit.”
“Be careful,” she said, her eyes filled with a familiar worry. “The streets aren’t safe for a young girl like you, especially at night.”
I knew she was right, but I couldn’t explain to her why I had to go. It was a pull, a need that I couldn’t ignore. The city at night was a different world, a place where the shadows danced and secrets whispered in the wind. And I, Soojin, was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
I finished my dinner quickly, the kimchi stinging my tongue, and headed to my room. The walls were covered with maps, each one marked with different locations, different times. I was a collector of the city’s hidden corners, its forgotten alleys, its abandoned buildings.
Tonight, my destination was the old factory on the edge of town. It had been abandoned for years, but rumors said that strange things happened there at night. I wasn’t afraid. I was curious.
I slipped out of the house, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy kitchen. The city was alive, a symphony of car horns, distant laughter, and the rhythmic hum of neon signs. I walked quickly, my footsteps echoing on the empty streets, until I reached the factory.
The gate was rusted and broken, hanging precariously on its hinges. I slipped through the opening and into the darkness. The air was heavy with the smell of dust and decay. I pulled out my flashlight, the beam cutting through the gloom, revealing the skeletal remains of machinery and piles of debris.
I moved deeper into the factory, my senses on high alert. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional creak of metal or the scuttling of unseen creatures. I felt a strange sense of anticipation, a feeling that something was about to happen.
And then I saw it. A faint light, flickering in the distance. I moved towards it, my heart pounding in my chest. The light grew stronger, revealing a small room at the end of a long corridor. I reached the doorway and peered inside.
A group of people were gathered around a table, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight. They were chanting in a language I didn’t understand, their voices low and rhythmic. In the center of the table was a strange object, a dark, obsidian stone that seemed to pulse with an inner light.
I watched them for a long time, my mind racing. What were they doing? What was that object? I felt a strange pull towards it, a desire to know more. But I also knew that I was in danger. I had stumbled upon something that I wasn’t supposed to see.
I backed away slowly, my eyes fixed on the room. I had to get out of here. I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing through the factory. I didn’t stop until I reached the gate, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I looked back at the factory, the dark silhouette looming against the night sky. I knew that I couldn’t ignore what I had seen. I had to find out what was going on. And I knew that my life would never be the same again.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of the sea.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of blood.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of death.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new beginning.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new world.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new god.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new era.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new legend.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new hero.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new villain.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new monster.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new demon.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new angel.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new human.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new life.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new hope.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new despair.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new love.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new hate.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new war.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new peace.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of a new beginning.
The wind was blowing.
It was a wind that carried the scent of the sea.
