Side story 2 Ch 1.1

Side Story 2. Inside the Black Belly  

Prologue  

 

Our bodies, pressed close, throb and jerk with every beat.
…Is it starting again?

The man sitting up in bed lit the lamp. As the darkness peeled away, he leaned on one arm and looked down at the side.

“……”

Fine white hairs along a pale cheek shimmered one by one in the amber light. His lashes, casting faint shadows under his eyes, trembled softly, and a slight furrow formed across the bridge of his nose.

From his slightly parted lips, a fragile breath escaped over and over, as though it might break at any moment.

“Ha, ngh… Ah…”  

His whole body must have been tense, faint blue veins rose against the pale skin of his hand, clenched tightly around the blanket.

The man pushed away the sheet covering Yeowon’s body. A long, slender white leg immediately drew his eyes. He slipped his hand between the tightly pressed thighs, clinging together like a matched pair. Inside, wrapped in soft pubic hair as smooth as the hair on their head, it was damp. Sticky arousal stretched thinly under the fingers rubbing the warm groin.  

Twenty-three. Far too old to still be having wet dreams.  

As the man’s fingers probed deeper—  

 

“Ah, ah…”  

 

A moan spilled from between Yeowon’s slightly parted lips. The man’s throat bobbed at the very sound he made when he was inside him.  

 

Yeowon’s long fingers clawed at the sheets as if searching for something. Like raking claws, the fingertips scraped insistently. They were searching for *him*. The man’s eyes glinted sharply at the sight. Pitch-black and impossible to gauge, they burned with a maddened glee.  

 

As Yeowon writhed in the swamp of their nightmare, the man smiled beside him. After struggling so hard to obtain him, seeing him prove his worth like this—how could he not be proud?  

 

Inside his mind, fragments of the past, everything that had led to claiming Yeowon, resurfaced.  

 

Beginning. Part 1

 

His name was Jang Ki-joo, though everyone called him CEO Jang.

Both his background and the origin of his name were pitifully crude.

He had been abandoned near the entrance of an orphanage building. When the headmaster found him, he didn’t even have a name. The headmaster wasn’t the type to go around giving out names with any sense of care.

There had just been a flyer nearby that read, “Organs for sale.”

“Jang-ki ju-go pamnida.”

That line stuck.

And it became his name.

He found out when he was twelve, thanks to a kid who shared his room and stole a look at the orphanage registry, then went around blabbing.

His name carried the shame of his origin.

It was a glaring blemish, but changing it would’ve been a blow to his pride.

So, he became “CEO Jang.”

His last name might have reeked of his beginnings, but the title that followed was earned—every inch of it—with his own hands.

He was the master of the empire he built with those hands.

***

Whenever there was word of a new product, the highborn predators came swarming in like a pack of rabid dogs.

A cesspool overflowing with rot and disorder.

A playground for the rich and idle to kill their boredom.

That place—Royal.

“If it’s high-end, then of course it has to be pale and glowing, or there’s no point. Right? CEO Jang’s goods are nothing like those gaudy knockoffs pretending to be something they’re not.”

“These days everything just looks good on the outside, but there’s no substance. None.”

“I heard CEO Jang just wrapped up a deal with K.O. on the down-low? That guy—damn, he knows how to make things work.”

All they ever cared about were the goods in his hands and the money they could throw.

And they always pushed him to the brink of exhaustion.

That day was no different.

After leaving Room 420—the room they used to entertain clients—he tried to shake off the layers of fatigue with alcohol and pills.

“…Mmm.”

Feeling the drugs rush through his veins, he picked out someone suitable for release.

The act that followed brought him no pleasure.

He’d fuck, he’d finish. He’d pay.

And that was it.

Just another day spinning the wheel like some lab rat.

Another dull, uneventful year.

Or so he thought.

***

“I’m here to collect the laundry.”

The doorbell rang.

Wearing nothing but a robe, he walked to the door—and froze.

Standing outside was a pale body.

He narrowed his snake-like eyes.

At first, he thought it was the drugs from last night playing tricks on him.

A ghost-white face, like powdered dust, with delicate features painted on like a brushstroke.

Eyes drawn long and low, a soft curve shaping the nose like the eave of a roof.

Lips looked as though someone had breathed a soul into them—stained with color, as if blood had seeped through.

And poking out between the fine strands of hair, ears tipped with downy fuzz.

The moment he saw the employee, he knew.

That this was the brat Lee Jinseok had mentioned.

‘We’ve got a new recruit coming in soon, just your type. I made sure to scout this one myself.’

He scanned the newbie from head to toe.

Overall, he was lean, but his body—wrapped in the uniform—felt sturdy, like he wouldn’t go down easily.

“I apologize. I’ll clean up quickly and be out of your way.”

…And on top of that, his perked-up nipples, pushing tight against his shirt, caught the man’s eye.

A soft pink, like the inside of a fingernail.

Maybe it was because his skin was so pale, even that little bit of flesh seemed faintly colored.

His eyes glinted with crude interest, and a suggestive grin pulled at his lips.

Such an innocent-looking face, and yet underneath, he had to be completely used up.

He licked his lips.

He bet even the flesh that swelled around that stretched, overused hole would be the same faint pink.

It had been a long time since something looked this appetizing.

And for once, his appetite stirred.

***

“I’ll give you a matchstick for every drink you take.”

At his words, the recruit forced down drink after drink, struggling with each one.

His pale face twisted in pain as he swallowed the bitter liquid.

He looked like he was dying, like one more sip would be the end of him. But he held on until he passed out cold.

Gripping the edge of the table for balance, he managed to stay upright, but didn’t even get through the whole bottle before collapsing.

That long, well-proportioned body sprawled across the rug.

CEO Jang watched, amused, as the recruit endured the ordeal.

Then he clicked his tongue and scooped up the fallen man, cradling him in his arms.

He took the elevator to his room and laid the unconscious recruit on the bed.

That porcelain cheek now looked as if it had been slapped raw.

His neck, visible beneath his ear, was flushed too—like someone had strangled him with their bare hands.

He looked so still, CEO Jang wondered for a moment if he’d died.

But no. His chest was rising and falling, faint and slow, yet steady.

Clicking his tongue again, CEO Jang left the passed-out recruit on the bed and lounged around for a while.

Eventually, he ordered another staff member to find the kid’s ID.

“Here it is.”

He took the card and looked it over.

The photo placement was off, and the font on the name looked cheap.

Anyone with half an eye would know this was a fake.

Spinning the ID between his fingers, he called Kim Joongdeok.

— “Yes, sir. I’ve got you on the line.”

“Run a check. Name: Seo Suwon. Resident registration number is…”

He heard Jungdeok ask him to wait while he ran the search.

It wasn’t long before the phone rang again.

— “Sir, I looked into the ID number you gave me. It came back as nonexistent.”

Nonexistent.

Even though the card clearly had the photo of the boy who’d downed the drinks without a hint of fear and passed out like a corpse.

— “Want me to dig deeper?”

“Hmm.” The man hummed in response before ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the table and picked up the ID card again. The awkward expression, the stiff neck, the clothes that looked as ill-fitting as if they’d been borrowed, everything about it screamed rushed.  

 

The man rose from the sofa, the ID still in his hand. The shadow cast across the floor swelled instantly. *Thud, thud.* A beast-like silhouette moved slowly toward the bed.  

 

Lying sprawled in the center of the bed was a figure as pale as the sheets. The man’s gaze, sharp enough to tear through flesh, trailed from the newbie’s face down to their chest, the pronounced collarbones, the toned torso (well-maintained, it seemed), and the faintly visible nipples beneath the thin fabric, so delicate they looked like they might dissolve under scrutiny.  

 

With the edge of the ID card, the man brushed against the sleeper’s cheek. Slow. Deliberate. A touch laden with unmistakable hunger. As the corner of the card grazed the soft curve of their ear—  

 

“……”  

 

“…Ngh.”  

 

The newbie tensed slightly, shoulders hitching. If he wanted, he could shove his c*ck between those slightly parted lips right now, force a moan out of them, and pull back just as quickly. But that would ruin the fun. He’d lose interest before the real game even began. That’s how it always went.  

 

But this body? It was different. Rare. Maybe even *first-time-ever* levels of tempting. He intended to savor it.  

 

The man sat back on the sofa and lit a cigarette while waiting for the newbie to wake. *Inhale. Exhale.* Outside, rain fell. The sound of droplets battering the window made him smirk. The room had a certain charm to it, he thought, as he brought another cigarette to his lips.  

 

“……”  

 

“Ah—hng…”  

 

Just as he was stubbing out the butt, a weak, animal-like whimper came from the bed. The man laced his fingers together and watched, amused. Stretched lazily across the sofa, he enjoyed the wait.  

 

Dawn light seeped into the room. When the newbie finally stirred, their face was blank with sleep. Dull eyes scanned the room, then landed on him. In an instant, those eyes widened like saucers.  

 

They jerked upright, scrambling back on the bed. The man, who had been idly smoking this whole time, offered a deal to the trembling figure:  

 

“It’s simple. Relieve my boredom, and I’ll not only show you a way out—I’ll give you enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”  

 

The newbie’s lashes fluttered like a trapped mouse’s. Anyone else would’ve mistaken it for fear. But the man saw it, the sharp glint in their eyes, hidden beneath those trembling lashes.  

 

It intrigued him.  

 

‘How old is he?’ That face looked like it had just shed a school uniform. The kind that had never known bitterness beyond the burn of last night’s liquor. Yet behind those wide, guileless eyes was something else. Wariness.  

 

Last night, with the way he’d gulped down drinks, he’d assumed he’d accept his offer easily. But now, standing at the threshold of the room, he reconsidered. He might’ve been wrong.  

 

And sure enough, the newbie, disguised under the name *Seo Suwon*, didn’t readily agree.  

 

The man found this development interesting. The way their gaze flickered downward, the way their lips pressed together then parted, the way their nipples strained against their uniform, was this seduction?

 

He waited for him to crawl to his feet.  

 

In the meantime, substitutes were plentiful. He selected one, finished, then stood on the terrace in his robe, burning his throat with another cigarette. Days passed in a haze of fucking and shaking them off, yet his hunger remained. It coiled in his gut, growing more savage by the day. The ashtray beside him overflowed with crushed butts, filters and all.  

 

As he exhaled, smoke curled white before dissipating. It reminded him of that pale face. His throat burned. He closed his eyes, and there it was again, that wary glint hidden beneath fluttering lashes.  

 

When he opened his eyes, he knew exactly what he needed. His body, raging like it was pumped full of pig hormones, had made the decision for him. The man who entered the terrace picked up his cell phone and called Kim Joongdeok.