Substitute-Chapter 10

He dropped to his knees to eat.

With both hands tied behind his back, he was in danger of falling forward if he wasn’t careful. The key was maintaining balance while eating.

After scanning the spread, he decided to start with the melting ice cream, which was already turning to liquid under the heat of the lights. The matcha ice cream in the crystal glass had all but melted into soup, but it tasted surprisingly good. It wasn’t too sweet, and the aftertaste was clean.

If he’d had his hands, he would’ve gulped it down in one shot. Instead, he had no choice but to lap at it with his tongue, flicking it again and again. He felt like a fucking dog. And yet, rather than miserable, he was... oddly exhilarated. It was thrilling.

Wasn’t this the moment he’d been waiting for?

He promised himself not to get aroused — and still, his mind slipped.

He had to silently talk himself down, over and over again.

Now it was time for a late breakfast. The sausage was bursting with juice, the scrambled eggs were soft as clouds, and the butter-soaked croissant had the perfect harmony of sweet and salty.

Jiwon devoured the plate like a man who hadn’t eaten in days. The more he ate, the more his belly didn’t fill — instead, his lower stomach throbbed with arousal. It was strange, but he didn’t have time to think about that.

His self-control gradually dissolved. He moaned without realizing it, slurping, licking, chewing, and tasting the food with greedy abandon. When he got to the whipped cream cake, he completely lost himself. His tongue sank into the thick, pillowy cream, and he felt like he was going to lose his mind from the pleasure. His face, his shirt, even his dress pants were covered in cream. The cake disappeared fast.

Next, Jiwon turned to the fruit. Most of it was soft-fleshed and extremely sweet.

Mangoes, watermelon, peaches, Shine Muscat grapes, melon, and kiwi.

The only one he could really call a favorite was peaches. He went for those first. The juice and texture were heavenly. The sweetness exploding from the fruit felt like it was suffocating him.

Just as the last fragile grip on reason started to fade — thank god — a wave of fullness hit.

That was when his mind snapped back. With his stomach full, the once-pleasant sweetness now felt nauseating. Because of that, he didn’t even make it halfway through the fruit before crawling toward the stand holding the champagne. He had wondered why that stand was even there — turns out, it was designed so he could drink while his hands were still bound.

He raised his torso slightly and brought his mouth to the bottle. Biting the lip of it with his teeth and tugging gently downward, a crisp, bitter stream of champagne flowed into his mouth. He’d worried it might be sweet, too, but luckily, it was dry.

Finally, something tolerable.

He sipped the champagne carefully, making sure not to gulp too much at once. Once his mouth felt clean again, he crawled back to finish the rest of the fruit. Thanks to the champagne, he managed to get through it all.

It was the first time in his life he'd overeaten on just desserts. His stomach felt heavy and greasy, and his tongue was almost numb from sugar.

And it was hot. He knew the AC was on. But under the piercing lights, crawling around and scarfing down food, he was drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his chest, and even his underwear was soaked through.

Panting, Jiwon turned his eyes to the final target.

Fuck it. It was just a jelly. He could bite into it and be done. At least it would taste better than an actual dick.

He crawled solemnly on his knees toward the jelly molded into the shape of an adult male’s erect penis — realistically oversized.

He didn’t want to open his mouth wide. It felt too much like giving a blowjob.

Trying to be clever, he aimed to bite it from the side instead. He sank his teeth into it — and screamed.

It wasn’t jelly. It was hard candy. He almost broke a tooth.

He realized a moment later: he had to suck it down.

They could’ve given him something edible, at least. Fucking perverts.

Jiwon hesitated for a moment, when—

“Suck it properly. Like it’s oral sex.”

The voice came from the speaker, flat and emotionless.

“If you can’t, you can get up and leave.”

The tone was almost generous.

At that moment, a flurry of ₩50,000 bills rained down above Jiwon’s head. Monkey-Faced Man had thrown them.

They fluttered around him like flower petals. Even without counting, it was easily over a hundred bills.

Rage burned in Jiwon at the scummy act — Monkey-Face was certain Jiwon was desperate enough for money to put on a show.

Fine. If that’s what they wanted, he’d show them.

He clenched his teeth.

Fuck it. I’ll suck the shit out of it.

Jiwon straightened his upper body. Then, opening his mouth as wide as he could, he wrapped his lips around the head of the candy dick. Slurp, chuuup, chuup. He sucked it like it was the tastiest thing in the world.

****

His jaw felt like it was going to dislocate. His lips and mouth? Swollen, torn, and bleeding.

And still, Jiwon laughed. Giggled to himself as he read a text message.

He absentmindedly patted the inside pocket of his thick jacket and wondered what to eat for lunch. His stomach felt like it might explode, but the greasy aftertaste was too much — he needed something to settle it.

In the end, he walked into a Chinese restaurant and ordered jjambbong. Every bite of the spicy soup burned his cracked lips and torn mouth, but he didn’t care. He left most of the noodles but drank every drop of broth. Afterward, he stopped by a cheap coffee shop nearby and bought an iced Americano to cleanse his palate. With nowhere else to go, he sat at a café table and sipped his coffee, passing the time.

Before heading to the logistics center, he retrieved his backpack from a subway locker and changed into his regular clothes in the bathroom. He hadn’t expected to sweat this much, so he hadn’t packed spare underwear — a regret, but not a crisis. Since he’d bathed at the sauna that morning, he didn’t smell too bad.

Just like that, Jiwon returned to his normal life.

****

The suffocating heat that had begun in early June only got worse by July.

It had been well over three weeks since the second interview.

The anxiety grew worse with each day. But there was nothing he could do — all he could do was wait.

Jiwon’s life hadn’t changed much. Twice a day, he chewed painkillers, broke down frozen pollock in the warehouse, hauled boxes of repackaged fish, worked as a designated driver, and clocked in at the room salon three times a week.

But things weren’t exactly the same, either. Thanks to the 8 million won he’d gotten for free, he had a bit of breathing room. He didn’t have to panic to meet his monthly quota.

Unexpectedly, his income increased. The frozen warehouse job that should’ve ended last weekend was extended indefinitely — all because of the record-breaking heat.

On the day the older guy who’d referred him returned to work, Jiwon had gone to say a final goodbye — only to be offered a new gig at another warehouse operated by the same company. With the surge in frozen shipments, every facility was short on hands. They all begged for help, saying it was hard to find young workers like Jiwon.

The new job was basically loading and unloading — much harder, but the pay and bonuses were better than pollock duty. Given his physical condition, he should’ve said no.

Maintain routine.

Don’t forget you’re a debtor.

But whenever he wavered, those magic little phrases would flash in his head — and with a bitter laugh, he agreed.

No flexibility in this fucker.

What could he do? That’s just how he was wired.

Because of the heavy lifting, he upped his painkiller intake from twice a day to four times. Every day, he worked overtime to deal with the flood of shipments.

For better or worse, the overtime pay was decent enough ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) that he could skip nighttime driving gigs. Instead, he’d squeeze in one or two hours of sleep at the goshiwon, rest his aching arm, then head to Gangnam before the buses stopped. On weekends, it was Emperor Room Salon. On weeknights when he didn’t have to report to the salon, he faked his way through designated driver shifts. It was the only way to survive.

His relationship with Han hadn’t changed much either. It was like they’d made a silent pact not to mention the second interview. The breach-of-contract fee was terrifying, sure — but really, there was nothing to say.

What could you ask? “So, how was the dick candy?”

That day, too, they were sitting side by side at the convenience store bar table, eating near-expired triangle kimbap and sipping “buy two, get one free” coffee drinks.

“This kind of heat is just rude. Don’t you think, hyung?”

Han grumbled with a whiny edge.

He’d always been sensitive to heat — last week, he’d even been rushed to the ER for shortness of breath. He took three more days off after that. During that break, he added a new tattoo.

A huge white lily just above the inside of his left ankle, right above the bone.

Jiwon had already seen the scorpion tattoo on Han’s collarbone — crude but unique — and Han had once mentioned there was a matching one on his right hip.

So why a lily this time?

Han confessed that while attending a wedding during his time off, he saw the bride’s lily bouquet and found it so beautiful that he decided on impulse to get it inked.

The full-bloom white lily suited Han far more than that grotesque-looking scorpion.

Still, the question itched at him.

“Why’d you get a scorpion tattoo?”

Anyone would wonder.

But Han never explained. Usually, he’d throw out a casual lie like, “To look tough,” or “’Cause it’s cool,” but this time, he kept his mouth shut. Jiwon figured he regretted it and didn’t press.