The man’s body gleamed smoothly as if covered with crow feathers.
“You especially should be more careful. Anything can happen here.”
He slowly turned his back. Brown skin that looked solidly muscular covered his thick nape.
“Whether it’s something pleasant or something dangerous.”
…That person is Managing Director Gi.
The second son of KJ Corporation, supposedly. A bastard son, they say, exiled to a subsidiary in the frontier, and the money he’d accumulated through dark routes alone amounted to hundreds of billions.
…And he’s the owner of this cruise and the president of the film production company.
A truly mysterious man. Only glossy on the surface, an utterly gloomy human.
‘That bastard…’
Just thinking about the film makes him feel like shit, so that guy must be the same kind of filthy scum, right?
“……”
Woonghee flung his sports bag down. Zzzzip, he tore open the zipper. Two baseball bats came out from inside.
He locked the door with one baseball bat, and with the other one…
He swung it in a big arc. The speaker riiiiipped apart. Beeeeeeee! A sharp ringing tore through the air.
“Kyaaaah, what the hell is that sound…!”
“It’s so loud I’m dying, someone please turn it off!”
Murmur murmur, the party atmosphere instantly became a mess. People hunched over, plugging both ears tight. A crowd collapsing like dominoes. From within, something rose up tall. It was Director Hwang. Both his eyeballs bulged open so large they looked ready to pop out.
“You, you, you son of a bitch!!”
He pointed at him with short fingers covered in bushy hair.
“Guard! Where’s the guard!”
Director Hwang came rushing over. The gown with palm trees drawn on it flapped against his body. A disgustingly bumpy silhouette was revealed as is.
“Don’t they manage the water quality here properly? A cockroach-like bastard crawled in!”
Woonghee rolled his small tongue inside his mouth.
‘Cockroach… he said.’
Director Hwang was originally a director famous for being cheap. Despite having written nothing but trashy, filthy 19+ rated synopses. <Fabulous> luckily bit onto a talented new writer and sucked them dry to the marrow, pulling in 20 billion won in production costs.
“Those thug bastards can’t come.”
Behind him came sounds of ‘Bang, crash!’ The already locked door shook violently.
“Don’t hold onto false hope and just give me my money.”
Woonghee flung his bag forward. The zipper riiipped open. The next moment, the smell of oil wafted out. The smell leaked out like poison. Director Hwang’s face, startled, turned deathly pale.
“That cra-, crazy…”
Director Hwang stepped back once, then again. That terrified mug of his. His fingertips tingled. Dopamine burst out like a fountain throughout his entire body.
“Why? Scared now?”
Woonghee slowly pulled out a lighter from his pocket.
“You thought you could fuck up someone else’s life like this and live comfortably with your legs stretched out?”
Swish, he turned the wheel and an eerie flame rose up.
“You need to experience what happens when you make someone cry tears of blood.”
For a year, he’d rolled around like a dog, and rolled some more. His head burst open, double nosebleeds gushed blood, and disgusting bumps rose up on his lips.
Every single day felt like dying. He wanted to rest comfortably and breathe for even just one day.
But still. But still, looking at that fucking omega shot alone, he’d endured stubbornly.
Now that that dream had collapsed, Woonghee felt like he wouldn’t mind dying as is. He felt like going all the way to the end.
“Take out your phone.”
Woonghee gestured to Director Hwang with his eyes. A critical moment. Somewhere, the sound of someone gulping could be heard. It was a tense moment where one couldn’t even easily exhale.
“Fuck, fuck, that psycho…”
Saying he should have noticed from the crazy look in his eyes, Director Hwang slowly slipped his hand into his gown pocket.
And finally took out his phone.
“Now transfer with that. To Suwon Bank, the account is 322…”
Click click, Director Hwang’s thick thumb pressed the phone buttons. Thump thump, Woonghee’s heart beat. He wondered if he might be doing something foolish. But clearly the thumb was properly pressing the numbers.
…Is it done now? Is it all over now? Can I really go back to Korea now? Can I, can I become a beta? His vision turned white with relief.
“……!”
And that’s when it happened. Director Hwang’s two eyeballs suddenly rolled to the side. Eyes like he’d discovered something behind him. As Woonghee quickly turned his head.
“Kugh…!”
His neck was suddenly choked tight. Someone stuck close behind him strangled his neck with their forearm.
“Ughh…”
His neck snapped back like a straw. It was so strong his uvula bone throbbed.
“Ugh, urgh, krgh, l-let go!”
Into his severely furrowed vision came a face gleaming smooth like a pearl.
‘Lee Ijun…!’
It was Lee Ijun, the hero of this film.
Shit, Woonghee cursed inwardly. That bastard, the problem was he’d relaxed too much thinking everything was over for a moment.
“Hey, shitty Woong, how’ve you been?”
A face as white as freshly fallen snow, innocent eyes drooping like a gentle puppy, large black pupils occupying half his face. Corners of his mouth blooming radiantly like May flowers. He truly looked like a descended angel.
He was called the first love guy because he manipulated memories of first love. A nickname that those who knew the truth would grind their gums at, beyond just snorting.
“Did you sneak in again pretending to be someone else? You vermin bastard?”
“Kheuk…!”
This bastard was just a complete punk living without a care, a completely crazy bastard whose head had spun around. He’d constantly fawn over staff with pretty faces or good bodies, and after branching out like an octopus, his lovers would come and turn the filming set upside down.
Getting drunk and sleeping on the street was basic, and his manager was constantly on edge worried he might drink and drive or do drugs.
“You really play dirty like your face.”
Woonghee struggled desperately. He couldn’t fall so helplessly like this. What kind of opportunity is this for me!
“Fuck, let go, let go…!”
Lee Ijun grabbed Woonghee’s helmet. Then ripped the helmet right off his head. Degoooroo, the helmet rolled away. Just like a decapitated head.
Kihihihi, Lee Ijun threw Woonghee right into the middle of the stomach. Woonghee was placed on the cutting board like a chicken with all its feathers plucked, its belly cut open with a knife to expose its organs.
“Hey, crawl under my legs.”
And with that, he stood there with his legs spread wide in front of him. Woonghee clenched his fists tight. Tremble tremble, something wriggled inside his grasp.
“What, does it hurt your pride?”
“……”
He wondered what was struggling, all torn up. Just as Lee Ijun said, it was pride.
No, it was his everything.
“Shitty Woong, is that little bit of pride the problem right now? You need to get your omega shot, Woonghee!”
Just once, just once would be enough. Lee Ijun tempted Woonghee like a devil bastard.
“You’ll live like that your whole life, then?”
Live like an idiot that way? Never see the light and roll around in mud like a street dog bastard?
…Right, Lee Ijun’s words are correct. I have to put in thirty million, thirty million won by today, by midnight today. Only then can I become a beta, a beta…
Only then will this kind of shitty thing not happen in the future. Woonghee pressed the floor with his trembling arms. He clenched his shaking fists. Trying somehow to grasp his wriggling pride. And so, as he was about to crawl in on all fours…
At the following words, Woonghee’s spine stiffened completely.
“Wow, crazy, he was an omega?”
“You didn’t know? There’s talk he gave his body to Director Hwang.”
…No.
“Jackpot, really? No wonder a rookie landed the lead stuntman position.”
No, nothing like that ever happened! Fuck, I’m not a male prostitute! He shouted like that, but the powerless echo didn’t reach them.
“Anyway, they’re just naturally gifted, those people.”
No matter how much he refuted it anyway, no one would listen to him. Humiliation flowed down like bright red intestines from his stomach.
“Disgustingly…”
It was disgustingly humiliating.
His narrow chest wheezed from panting, and a flush rose on his white cheeks. His eyes with thin double eyelids trembled flutter flutter like flapping wings.
And the next moment, thick liquid beaded on Woonghee’s cheek. They say the sky wails, and before he knew it, rain was falling. His long eyelashes fluttered in the wind, and raindrops beaded tap tap on their ends. …It was a pitiful face, just like he was crying.
“Pfft.”
Laughter burst out from somewhere. It sounded like air escaping, or like the heat this massive cruise expelled with its engine sounds.
“Really a complete mess.”
Still crouched down, he slowly lifted his eyes. His vision burned hot. Bang bang, fireworks burst in succession. Pleasures he dared not partake in.
‘…Hot.’
A heat like corporal punishment. Woonghee squinted hard, his eyes dazzled. Soon his vision gradually brightened. In the dark night sea, that angular jaw shone.
It was Managing Director Gi.
Sparks pooled on the protruding bones and glowed. Among celebrities with disgustingly sharp jaws from somehow shaving them down, he alone had an angular jaw. Like an arms dealer mixed in among aristocrats.
Gush gush, peacocks maintained by pouring astronomical amounts of money. Among them, what should that man be called?
He was exactly like an eel that got mixed in with a group of lugworms by mistake. Slithering through the swamp with that gloomy stomach to secure a spot among the peacocks.
He’d muttered to him with that jaw. ‘Omega.’ And while he was spacing out like that. Crash, a sound came from behind.
“…Managing Director-nim!”
The thug bastards came bursting in. When the man flicked his finger once, the bulky guys’ movements stopped in unison. Managing Director Gi hunched his large shoulders, and his suit folded elegantly.
“Exactly how much is that amount that you act so vulgarly?”
