Eighteen's Bed-Chapter 26.1

The tension in my throat grew sharp like the tip of a spire, only to suddenly deflate with a pop. A large yawn shattered my nerves.

That’s when I realized.

I wasn’t the only one in this household with a questionable faith.

"Haaahm……"

The familiar presence made me raise my head slightly. Then, cautiously, I glanced in the opposite direction.

I should’ve expected it, and yet a different kind of tension gripped me. The culprit behind the explosion—the one casually picking up food from his plate—was none other than Go Yohan.

"Ah, fuck… I’m starving."

I swear, he didn’t feel the slightest guilt about what he was doing. That had to be it. Otherwise, the notorious liar—who was always hypersensitive to the word "father"—would never dare commit such blasphemy so brazenly.

"Hey, what’s up with you?"

A bad feeling crawled up my spine. The sense that something was about to go terribly wrong. I nudged Go Yohan and asked, but the response didn’t come from him.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that?"

The strange man sitting at the center of his devout family, the one who had imposed religion upon them but didn’t even pray himself. His voice was detached, indifferent—draining the warmth from the room.

"……"

Why?

My fingertips grazed the corner of the table as I hesitantly turned my head. The scene unfolded in a slow, stretched-out panorama—the deeply engrossed Go Yosep, the unreadable Gorosa staring at the far end of the table, and Go Yohan’s mother, who was still in prayer…

Yet something was off.

Gorosa had been praying. But now she wasn’t.

My gaze slowly followed the direction of her stare, leading me back to a familiar hand.

Neatly trimmed nails scraped lightly against the tablecloth.

"……?"

Something was wrong.

The delicate fabric crumpled under his fingers, dragging the plate along with it before it tumbled to the floor. A sharp, piercing sound rang out—only to be muffled beneath the sole of a polished leather loafer.

The navy blue dress pants were clearly made from fine fabric. The legs were long—so long that even when I raised my gaze, I couldn’t see his face.

Instead, all I could make out was a crisp white shirt, its fabric stretching taut over a broad chest.

"Isn’t it awkward sitting there?"

The voice addressing me sounded a little younger than before. As the man moved, the buttons on his shirt pulled slightly apart, the tension between them forming tight lines.

"Wouldn’t it be better if you sat here?"

"…Excuse me?"

Confused, I finally dared to look up at the face I had been avoiding.

My eyes widened in shock.

"Go Yohan?"

The man was Go Yohan.

His hair was neatly slicked back, and he wore a deep navy suit, its color slightly dulled. He ran his tongue over his canine tooth and smirked.

"What’s with the surprise?"

The reason for my discomfort was clear.

This Go Yohan wasn’t the Go Yohan I knew.

He looked older. Not drastically so, but enough that his resemblance to his father was unsettling. Had I not known better, I might have mistaken him for a slightly younger version of his old man.

His hand idly stroked the empty table, covered in a strange glove. A familiar sensation pricked at my memory—his right hand was gloved, but only the pinky, ring, and middle fingers were covered in black fabric.

The ungloved index finger pointed between his legs.

As if obeying his silent command, my gaze followed.

There, on his left thigh, something thick shifted beneath the fabric.

"It’s not like this is your first time sitting here."

The man, whether he was a younger Go Yohan or an older version of his father, smiled at me.

"No…"

No fucking way.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even get up.

Desperately, my eyes darted around for something—anything—but Gorosa was still staring at the head of the table, and Go Yohan’s mother was still looking straight at me.

No—she wasn’t looking at me.

The air beside me felt unnaturally cold.

I slammed my hands against the table and turned.

The moment I confirmed what was next to me, all strength drained from my body.

I slid off the chair, collapsing onto the floor.

From my position, I could see under the table.

And there, in Go Yohan’s seat—sat his father.

What the hell was going on?

My thoughts spun, struggling to make sense of anything.

Then—

"Oops."

A hand suddenly slipped under my arms.

Long fingers pressed against my chest, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. He did it on purpose.

Deliberately, he dug his fingers into my nipple, making my eyes sting from the sharp pain.

"Ah!"

I was forcibly lifted. I kicked against the floor in protest, but it was no use.

For a moment, I struggled weakly. But my body wasn’t responding the way I wanted it to.

The moment I questioned why—

I was pulled downward.

No—more precisely, I was seated.

Or rather, I was seated on Go Yohan’s lap.

A firm pressure beneath me made me squirm.

I tried to shift, but a strong hand pressed down on my waist, forcing me to stay still.

"Why do you hate it so much?"

"……"

"You’re hurting my feelings."

I felt like I was going to die from the unfairness of not being able to speak while Go Yohan kept babbling on. I couldn't even move my body. I was leaning my back against a solid surface, and the place I had been in earlier was the dining room, but now there were only traces left of the people who had been sitting there, and everyone had disappeared.

What the hell is this?

The dark dining room felt scary and bizarre. In the midst of it, a damp breath reached my ear.

“I hope you’re unhappy.”

The moisture on my ear was hot. I only looked straight ahead, unconsciously lifting my toes and rubbing my feet on the floor. I couldn’t see anything. The only things I could feel were the sensation of my left breast being pressed by the ring finger and the touch of something licking my right ear.

“I hope you become unhappy.”

A huge pressure between my legs started to build up. Damn it, I muttered a curse under my breath and pushed the fingers that were pinching my waist through the thin fabric. As a result, my fingers tangled with his.

What’s so good about me being unhappy? I felt like my nose was full of water.

The hand that had withdrawn gently slid down my waist and grabbed my pants. All eight fingers, except for the two thumbs, slowly crept into the gap between the fabric and my skin. Wait, wait, I was trying to stop him by lowering my hands.

“I never want you to be happy. Jun-ah.”

“Ha, ha, please...”

“Seriously.”

The man whispering behind me slid his hand into his pants, undoing the buckle with his thumb. I desperately grabbed his wrist. Just as I was about to push him away, he suddenly straightened up.

In the next moment, his thigh pressed against me, forcing me upward—I tumbled forward, landing sprawled across the table.

“Ugh.”

I braced myself with my hands against the table, an instinctive attempt to lessen the impact. I have to get up. I have to run. Clinging to the thoughts screaming in my head, I pushed against the cold glass surface, trying to lift myself up.

But then, a strong force pressed against my back. Humiliatingly, I was pinned down again, my cheek mashed against the cold glass as I struggled. I could feel it all—the slow descent of fabric as my pants and underwear were pulled down inch by inch.

Just as the waistband slipped past the curve of my hips, it stopped. Not by accident. The man chuckled, gripping the fabric he had been lowering and fastening the buckle back in place. His movements were unhurried, almost casual—but his fingers, brushing against my skin, carried a force that betrayed restraint.

The chill in the air sent goosebumps rippling across my skin. A large hand slid over them, stroking gently. Every touch sent an unsettling shiver through me.

"You’ve got goosebumps."

“...Hhngh.”

With the buckle locked tight, I couldn’t spread my legs. I couldn’t move at all. The frustration that threatened to spill over was barely contained, swallowed down as my fingertips, pressed against the glass, turned pale.

An empty, darkened dining room. A man who looked like Go Yohan, sitting in his father’s chair. He seemed to be around thirty. I clenched my teeth, eyes burning, and glared at the patterns on the table—refusing to look at the man behind me.

Then, a stiff leather glove traced over my skin, teasing as it traveled upward. I felt everything—the slow, deliberate path from the end of my thigh, following the curve of my lower back where it dipped in deep.

"You’ll forgive me, won’t you? Even if I use all my strength, with every fiber of my being, to desperately wish for your misery?"

Fingertips that had been lightly grazing my waist crept under my clothes. Then, a palm pressed firmly against my back. The pressure increased, forcing down hard enough to ache. The hand that had been shoving against me so violently suddenly shifted—gripping my waist with a rough, possessive hold.

I panicked and tried to get up. However, Go Yohan's other hand gripped the opposite side of my hip and lifted me up with force, making escape impossible. My feet couldn’t reach the floor.

“Why, why am I…….”

My voice barely came out as I struggled to hold back my tears. A bare hand, without gloves, gripped my exposed hip so tightly it felt like I might burst. A firm thumb pressed under the curve, pulling me open, while thick flesh pushed against the entrance. It hurt. It hurt.

I clenched my fists tightly. The pain of my nails digging into my palms was the only thing keeping me grounded.

At the same time, something pried between the thin, sensitive flesh—just enough to slip in as far as a fingernail—before teasingly pulling back. The unfamiliar sensation, combined with the weight of a firm chest pressing heavily against my back, shattered what little composure I had left.

Hot breath brushed against the back of my head. Go Yohan’s nose, now unbearably close, nudged against my hair. Then, I felt sharp teeth biting down, tugging at the strands.

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“All those bastards who say they just want to see the person they love happy—every last one of them is a fucking liar.”

“A-ah, ah—”

"You have to be miserable to cling to stability."

And with that low, chilling voice, my world shifted.

"Seeing how easily it goes in, guess I'm the only one who's fucked you here."

That was the last thing I heard.

****

My head throbbed. On top of that, my arms felt numb.

It was like I was hanging upside down, submerged in water. As the headache slowly dulled, my mind began to settle back into place.

Staring up at the familiar ceiling, I realized—

What kind of fucked-up dream was that?

On top of that, a sharp pain began to bloom in my shoulder, growing more intense by the second. I frowned, forcing my sluggish arm down.

What the hell? I usually slept like the dead, so why had my arm been raised like that? It was strange, but not unheard of, so I brushed it off.

Then, a fragment of the dream resurfaced—the feeling of being unable to move my arm properly. Was that why my hand wouldn’t work in the dream?

"Ah… it's numb…"

My eyelids felt dry and heavy, refusing to move easily. My whole body was sluggish, still weighed down by sleep.

I slowly flexed my numb fingertips, trying to wake myself up—but something felt off about my legs. No, not just my legs. My entire lower body.

A dull pain throbbed where my skin folded, like it had been pulled too tight. And from just below my tailbone, a faint ache began creeping upward, inch by inch.

Ah, my back. Did I sleep in a weird position or something? How the hell did I even sleep?

On top of that, I was too warm—my body felt hot, sluggish, and exhausted, like I hadn’t actually rested at all.

Even when I ran my palm along the inside of my pajama top, it came away damp with sweat. But it’s not even that hot.

"What the hell is with all this sweat?"

Ugh. And why does my neck hurt so much? It felt stiff, like I’d been straining it the whole time.

I pressed my fingers into the sore muscles, kneading them as I wiped away the fresh sweat from my hands. Then, as I shifted my foot—

A mistake.

Something deep inside flared up, the dull ache in my lower back surging up to strike my tailbone hard.

No—inside my tailbone.

It felt like I’d been hit with a hammer. The pain was so sudden, so sharp, that I instinctively doubled over, fumbling awkwardly at my back.

“Ah, ah—shit.”

Hot, aching, and feverish—my body felt off, and I couldn’t make sense of it. My head swarmed with nothing but question marks.

As I bent forward, the shift in position made something deep inside me tremble involuntarily. The sudden sensation sent a jolt through me, and—

That dream.

It hit me all over again.

Fuck.

“…I’m seriously losing it. I’ve fucking lost it.”

I slammed my forehead against the blanket. What the fuck kind of dream was that?

Lately, I’d been beating myself up way too much. This is all Go Yohan’s fault. …No, is it my fault?

Maybe my younger self was right all along.

I really am—**seriously, truly**—a fucking pervert.

What kind of dream was that? What kind of—fuck.

"This is humiliating. Fuck, this is so fucking humiliating. How old am I, for fuck’s sake?"

I don’t even know what to do with myself—I’m so fucking embarrassed.

I want to get up, dunk my head in cold water, do anything to snap out of it. But my body feels too heavy, drained, like I’ve been wrung out. Weirdly, I even feel a little swollen. I’m not sleepy, but…

The cool fabric of the blanket was comforting against my skin, so I pressed my face into the mess of crumpled sheets. God, I really must’ve been exhausted.

I mean, just look at this disaster of a bed.

Ah.

A terrifying thought struck me, jolting me upright.

Still kneeling, I hesitated for a long moment before gripping the waistband of my pants. Then, after another beat of hesitation, I hooked my thumb into the gap between fabric and skin, pulling it open.

“…….”

Go Yohan’s shitty words echoed in my head—like a peeled banana, he once sneered.

My dick lay there, limp and lifeless beneath the bare skin of my pelvis.

At least… my underwear was clean.

The tension drained from my body all at once. Relief.

At least I didn’t make some middle school-level mistake.

Small mercies, I guess.

Goddamn it.

As the tension left my body, I collapsed back onto the bed. The heat radiating from my skin still felt unsettling, like a fever that wouldn’t break.

Shit. Am I getting sick?

I can’t. I have exams coming up.

Lifting a hand, I pressed my palm to my forehead. No headache.

I just took a shower before bed—do I seriously need another one?

The cold air against my damp skin stole away the surface heat, but the warmth inside me lingered—like it wasn’t a problem with my skin, but something deeper, something internal.

That dream had been so fucking vivid that even now, my insides felt like they were trembling.

Without thinking, I pressed a hand to my stomach. A strange, ticklish vibration buzzed beneath my palm, making my fingers twitch. Every breath I took made my stomach rise and fall, but each inhale and exhale felt off—like a broken machine, rattling and then sinking in too sharply.

Fuck.

What kind of fucked-up dream was that?

Fuck, fuck!

I buried my face in the blanket again.

At least it’s not that bad.

No one’s gonna know I had a dream like that or that my body heated up over it. No one.

I didn’t even get hard. Didn’t even have a wet dream.

That’s… manageable.

Yeah. Nothing happened.

Letting out a muffled groan into the sheets, I stayed like that for a while before finally lifting my head.

Through the dim light, I squinted at the clock—5 AM.

Ha.

I sighed again and shifted, but the moment I moved—

A sharp pull shot through the joints between my thighs and pelvis, right where my skin folded. A deep, deliberate ache, like something had been forced too wide.

Like I’d been stretched open.

What the hell kind of position was I sleeping in?

In the end, I gave up. Dragging myself up like some kind of insect, I collapsed against the pillow—only to immediately pull away.

It was damp.

Uncomfortably so.

With a frustrated sigh, I shoved the pillow aside and buried my head directly into the blanket instead.

“…I feel dizzy.”

But then—

Why the hell does my bed smell like Go Yohan?

Not just the bed. My clothes, too.

Kang Jun, you’ve actually lost your fucking mind

When I opened my eyes, it was already 10 AM.

Damn, I slept forever.

Not that it really mattered—I only had afternoon classes today. But still, my body was getting ridiculously lazy. What the hell did I even do to sleep this long?

Back in high school, I used to wake up at dawn without a problem. No way I’ve already started falling apart just because I’m a few years older. That’d be pathetic.

At least when I moved this time, my body felt lighter than it had at dawn.

It’s normal to feel sore when you wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. That’s all this is.

…Right?

"……?"

But the moment my feet touched the floor and I tried to stand, my body collapsed.

I hit the ground, staring up at the ceiling, feeling utterly ridiculous.

For a long moment, I just lay there, blinking blankly, waiting for my mind to catch up.

Fuck.

At least no one saw that.

I stepped out of my room, but the house was empty. Of course it was. Go Yohan had morning classes today.

Scratching roughly at my neck, I shuffled forward, sluggishly making my way through the quiet living room.

Outside the slightly open window, a late bird chirped—a straggler, just like me.

Then, as I stepped into the bathroom to wash my face, I froze.

Staring back at me in the mirror—

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck is this?

My face was swollen, puffed up like a damn steamed bun.

If Go Yohan saw me like this, he’d never let it go.