Into The Thrill

Woojin’s eyes were cold and fixed, but he didn’t look away.
The second son of K-One Group, who had been pounding the idol from behind for quite some time, pulled up his pants and collapsed beside Woojin, panting heavily.

"Fuck, who the hell used this one before? The hole’s so loose there’s no pleasure in it."
"You’re just small."
"What?!"

"He’s pretty, though. What’s the problem?"
At the sharp glare shot his way, Woojin casually changed the subject, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. The man couldn’t do anything about Woojin, who, despite being just a lowly prosecutor, held considerable sway at these gatherings. He swallowed his anger and drank his glass of liquor with ice like it was water.
"His manager offered a discount, so I brought him. But cheap goods are cheap for a reason. The one you brought last time was decent."

"Ah."
"Would it be too much if I asked you to bring someone like that again?"
"He killed himself."

"Ah, really? If I’d known that, I would’ve used him a few more times. Shame. He was cute."
He smacked his lips as if genuinely disappointed. Meanwhile, the Myeongdong moneylord’s grandson shoved his reddened erection into the idol’s hole. When he loudly proclaimed how tight it was, the K-One heir started cursing viciously.
He turned to Woojin.

"Didn’t you say there was one more? You said you picked someone. It’s your turn next."
Providing offerings was a shared duty among the members—fellow accomplices. Woojin loosened his tie and put a cigarette to his lips.
"He ran."

"You’re not holding him back ‘cause you like him, are you?"
Woojin didn’t answer. He just smiled.
"Last time you wouldn’t share that wannabe actor, and now people say you’re dating him."

The K-One heir pointed to the Chief Justice’s son, who was sitting rather composed, fondling his fully erect penis while waiting for his turn.
"Didn’t you still have gonorrhea?"
The K-One heir asked Woojin directly. Woojin looked down at his groin and scratched as if it itched.
"I’m on meds."

"Ugh, nasty bastard. Don’t even think about joining in tonight."
Woojin didn’t reply. He just inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his chest before exhaling. Claiming to have an STD was his usual excuse not to participate. He typically refrained from getting involved in their acts—but when suspicion rose, he played along aggressively.
White smoke floated lazily around Woojin. The K-One heir, who had a weak respiratory system, coughed and moved to the spot directly in front of the camera lens. As he walked across the room, he changed direction and approached the idol bound to the pole.

Still hard, he grabbed the idol’s trembling penis and then pissed on him. The yellow stream drenched the man’s groin, ran down between his thighs, and trickled away through the drainage. The moneylord’s grandson cursed, disgusted. He hurriedly finished himself off and urinated on the idol’s pale ass.
Exhausted from servicing six men, the young man—barely in his early twenties—hung limply, his head bowed, unmoving. The so-called bunker that offered pleasure was little more than a butcher shop selling human meat.
Up until last year, the bunker had merely been a place for wild orgies and drug-fueled parties. Woojin once told Taeshin he wanted to bring him along to one of those casual drinking nights with friends. Said it would be fun, that hanging out with them would be good for him. It was an offer meant to slip a leash around the heir of Kyungwon Group. Taeshin had been thrilled, asking multiple times if it was really okay for him to go to such a place.

At first, it was just alcohol and laughter. But as drinks and drugs took over, the atmosphere quickly devolved into utter debauchery. Woojin had stepped out briefly to smoke, leaving Taeshin alone among them. Through the glass wall, he silently watched as Taeshin was discarded into the center of the hedonism. That hadn’t been his intention—but the others seemed to assume Taeshin was fair game.
Well, Taeshin liked men anyway, so it didn’t really matter. He’d enjoy it to some degree, and Woojin needed material on him anyway.
Eventually, they tied Taeshin to the pole. It was clear they had no intention of stopping anytime soon. With a blank, twisted expression, Taeshin went through all kinds of play with six different men. Immersed in the role of a victim, he pleaded with Woojin to save him, begged for help. Woojin stared back, emotionless, as Taeshin cried.

By dawn, Taeshin had disappeared. He wasn’t in the bunker. He’d spent three days trapped somewhere in the forest. Woojin found him, filthy and broken, wrapped him in a blanket, and drove him home. He was a wreck. He looked ill. He said nothing. Woojin asked why he disappeared without a word when he seemed to enjoy himself. Wasn’t it fun? Why make a mess of things? After all, some people had a kink for humiliation and degradation. Even during sex with Woojin, Taeshin often cried and whispered that he loved him.
Staring blankly, completely shattered, Taeshin didn’t respond. Up until the moment he ran, he had been a pretty useful asset—always pulling stunts to keep Woojin’s attention.
Not long after, Taeshin killed himself. He’d said he wanted to help with the investigation, but never offered any real assistance. His sudden suicide baffled Woojin. There’d been no warning, no sign that he was struggling. And then, out of nowhere, he jumped from the rooftop of the high-rise where he lived.

It had only been a few days since Woojin found him in the woods, which left him deeply unsettled. Could the bunker gathering have triggered it? It wasn’t like Woojin had dragged him there. He didn’t force him, didn’t talk him into it against his will. Taeshin had wanted to go.
The stench of cigarette smoke, marijuana, hallucinogens, filthy male waste, the raw smell of meat and blood—it all flooded Woojin’s senses like a tide. He sat there, expressionless, staring at the unconscious idol.
∞ ∞ ∞

With the arrest investigation into the ruling party’s floor leader, the political backlash had been intense. But when two additional lawmakers were added to the investigation list, the uproar died down like it had never happened. Before the investigation’s findings could be announced at the Budget Committee, the Federation’s budget was slashed entirely, and the remaining funds were absorbed back into the treasury. The media began unleashing daily /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ criticisms of the lax execution of funds and the entire budget review process.
"At the last National Assembly’s Special Committee on Budget and Accounts, only 58 hours were spent reviewing a super budget of 460 trillion won. According to the prosecution’s investigation, Assemblyman Park Yong-ho exploited the lax review process to push for the founding of the Federation while serving as Minister of Strategy and Finance. Over the following two years, he embezzled state subsidies under the guise of educational support projects. The Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office’s Special Unit 3 has arrested Assemblyman Park Yong-ho, the Federation’s head of finance, and planning coordinator Mr. Lee, and is conducting full-scale raids of their offices and residences while pursuing further charges.
This case illustrates the urgent need for a separate system to ensure that the national budget, once submitted by the government, is reviewed thoroughly by the National Assembly to ensure taxpayers’ money is spent where it’s truly needed. Let’s connect now with reporter Lee Yoon-jung from the National Assembly Budget and Accounts Committee."

"Hyung, you’re not in Special Investigations, right?"
"...What?"
Woojin, lying in bed with one arm propping up his phone and the other serving as a pillow for Haewon, lifted his gaze to the TV screen.

For a moment, Jung Ho-myung appeared on screen conducting the raid at the Federation’s office, then disappeared. Woojin could already imagine Jung Ho-myung tomorrow, going around asking everyone if they’d seen him on TV.
Woojin grabbed the remote and switched it off. Haewon turned his head toward him.
"I was actually trying to catch up on current events for once. Why’d you turn it off?"

"It’s noisy."
"That’s your team, right? Special Investigations Unit 3 at the Central Prosecutors’ Office."
"Dunno."

At Woojin’s indifferent reply, Haewon pressed his cheek against Woojin’s chest like he was bored. Woojin stroked the back of Haewon’s head.
It wasn’t that he was keeping the boy to himself out of sentimentality. Not entirely. The moment Woojin sensed he knew about his relationship with Taeshin, the only thought that crossed his mind was that he needed to deal with him quickly. If Taeshin had told Haewon they’d slept together, there was also a chance he’d exposed the existence of the bunker. Taeshin talked too much, and in his rambling, he’d probably told Haewon all sorts of things.
Woojin had dropped vague hints about the frequent slush fund laundering that occurred through the bunker gatherings, but Haewon didn’t seem to have the slightest clue. If Haewon ever did learn of it, his mouth would have to be shut. If the bunker were exposed, everything Woojin had prepared for ten, twenty years down the line could collapse into nothing.

From what he’d observed, Woojin was sure—Haewon didn’t know the bunker existed. He also didn’t know why Taeshin had committed suicide. And neither did Woojin. He genuinely didn’t understand why Lee Taeshin had taken such an extreme step. Taeshin was the son of the chairman of Kyungwon Group, raised without ever tasting hardship, innocent and naive.
Taeshin had said he wanted to help, but in truth, he hadn’t been much help to Woojin at all. The money laundering done using his artwork barely amounted to a few hundred million. Bringing him to the bunker gathering had only caused problems when he disappeared. Woojin had wasted three full days searching for him in the woods.
He was still curious. Just like Haewon said—he hadn’t toyed with him. He’d treated him kindly, tried to win his affection, made love sincerely. Taeshin, like Haewon, had said he loved him. He’d projected his own fantasy onto Woojin. Woojin had invested his time and emotions in equal measure and asked only for reasonable help with his investigation. He never asked him to do anything outrageous—like steal documents or betray his father, as he had with Kim Hayeong. He’d just invited him to hang out with some close friends, and back then, Taeshin had seemed to enjoy it.

Maybe, like Kim Hayeong, he’d killed himself because he wanted to become an eternal debt Woojin could never repay. Or maybe he’d just grown tired of life all of a sudden. Who knew?
There were testimonies saying he used to keep a journal. They’d torn through his house, the hotel where he’d stayed, and even flipped Haewon’s officetel upside down—but found nothing. He’d died at twenty-nine, just like Kim Hayeong. That number left an especially ominous impression on Woojin.
Now that Taeshin had ended the same way, Woojin couldn’t help but associate him with Kim Hayeong. A dark thought occurred: maybe it was his fault. Everyone who claimed to love him ended up leaving when they hit twenty-nine, like it was some unspoken promise. Just a coincidence—but the overlap was too much.

Taeshin hadn’t been entirely useless.
He had led him to Moon Haewon.
If Taeshin had mentioned the bunker to Haewon, then Haewon was essentially a ticking time bomb. Woojin decided to defuse that bomb. He approached him patiently, persistently.

The relationship that had begun because of Taeshin was now too valuable to be discarded. Not yet. Woojin didn’t know when the right time would come, but he wasn’t foolish enough to hope for forever.
Everything rots and decays. Moon Haewon, too, would rot and decay one day. Woojin vaguely understood that the “right moment” would not come from himself—it would be when Haewon’s heart changed.
Woojin wasn’t the type to tire of things easily. Whether it was a car, a watch, or any other possession—if he liked it, he didn’t replace it. And when he set a goal, he might change his method or route, but he never changed or abandoned the goal itself.

He had no intention of replacing Moon Haewon with anyone else. But if Haewon changed… then punishment was always an option.
Haewon was sitting on Woojin’s stomach, looking down at him while he scrolled through his phone. Woojin, not even looking up, asked:
"What."

"I’m gonna practice. It’s gonna get noisy."
"Don’t mind me. Go ahead."
"There’s a chamber performance for kids during winter break coming up."

"Educational."
At Woojin’s completely uninterested tone, Haewon pouted and slid off his waist. He probably wanted to ask him to attend, but since it was for youth, he couldn’t outright say so.
Woojin checked the text from the tracker he had planted on Kim Jung-geun and sat up.

Haewon stood in front of the music stand with his violin, flipping through sheet music and nodding to himself. He hummed the melody before placing the violin between his jaw and shoulder and beginning to play. His face changed mid-performance, like he was slipping into another world entirely—becoming someone else.
At first, Woojin thought he was just intoxicated with his own music, and it seemed odd. But even Woojin, who had no love for music, would find himself unconsciously absorbed whenever Haewon played.
Maybe it was the expression—so ripe, so unlike anything he showed in daily life. Or maybe it was the kind of emotional expression Woojin couldn’t even fathom. But as he listened, Woojin would sometimes find himself aroused, breathing hard, chest tightening.

As if possessed, Woojin walked up behind him. He could tell it was Bach, but not which piece. The slow tempo held a sultry sensuality. When Woojin placed both hands on Haewon’s waist, Haewon opened his eyes. Still playing, he looked back at Woojin.
"You’re going to perform this for kids? It’s too…"
"Seductive?"

"……"
"If it sounds that way, then you’re listening right."
Haewon’s arm moved the bow from bottom to top. Woojin slipped his hand under his clothes. He passed over the flat stomach, lightly cupped the chest that had nothing to grab, and Haewon shivered. When Woojin pinched and rubbed the nipple, the tone deepened. Even a harsh, metallic sound came out. The more he touched, the more the sound changed. Barely keeping the performance going, Haewon finally lowered the bow and violin and said:

"Stop. That’s not the kind of sensuality I meant. The shifting in the music feels like that."
"Keep going."
"How am I supposed to with this?"

"Just try."
"Ah…"
Shaking his head, saying he couldn’t possibly continue, Haewon let go of the violin and bow. Woojin set them aside and pushed him against the window. Their reflections filled the dark glass—he didn’t like the night view much, but it didn’t matter. Woojin touched him without hesitation, like he owned him.

"I need to practice."
"Go ahead. Play all night if you want."
"Go easy, fuck, if you keep this up… ngh, you’re gonna rip me apart."

Breathing heavily, Haewon leaned his forehead against the thick windowpane. A round patch of condensation formed where his skin touched. He tried to push Woojin’s hands away.
Woojin pulled down his pants and underwear all at once, bunching them at his knees. Haewon’s legs were stuck in the tangled fabric, unable to move. He bent his back, and Woojin rubbed his stiff erection between the curves of Haewon’s ass, keeping his eyes on their mirrored reflection in the black window. On any other day, he would’ve drawn the curtains. Not today. It was like he wanted someone to see. Without hesitation, he pushed inside Haewon and began to thrust.
After feeding Haewon dinner, Woojin did the dishes. He liked housework—cooking, cleaning, washing up. The results were immediate, visible. Haewon, feeling like his strength had dropped, had collapsed onto the floor and started doing push-ups. At some point, without even realizing it, he went quiet.

Woojin dried his wet hands on a towel and turned around. Haewon was looking at his phone. It was locked, so he couldn’t see anything.
"What’s with this name? ‘Take Five’?"
That was how Haewon’s number was saved on Woojin’s phone. He must’ve called his own number from it to find out.

"What does that mean? Am I the fifth person you’ve dated? You’ve dated five people?"
Woojin had a habit: when he targeted someone important, he would assign them a number. After hearing Haewon play Bach’s Partita at Kim Jung-geun’s villa, Woojin had given him one.
He had to have him—no matter what. He would take him, do whatever it took to make him his. That night, Woojin had been so aroused, he pulled over in the woods while driving Haewon back.

In truth, he’d almost taken him to the bunker. While talking about someone getting trapped in the forest, he’d nearly driven Haewon there, tied him to the pole, and raped him—used him, claimed him, however he wanted.
He wanted to lock him up, ignore the world, and devour the existence of Moon Haewon—chew him up and swallow him whole.