Chapter 1 — Blue Night

I couldn’t tell when I’d fallen asleep, how long I’d slept, or how long I’d been lying here half-awake.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness, buried under the blanket on my bed, when I heard a knock.

It didn’t sound like someone knocking at my door—more like a nagging voice from deep within my unconscious, urging me to wake up already.

The persistent sound gradually pulled me back to awareness. I barely managed to gather myself, my body sluggish as I stirred.

I dragged myself to the front door, letting out a heavy, clinging sigh—one that didn’t feel like my own, but rather like the weary groan of someone else.

When I opened the door, the outside world was bathed in a dim, ambiguous light.

I couldn’t tell if it was dawn or dusk. And there stood a woman.

“It’s me.”

“Oh. You’re here.”

She exchanged no further greeting, just those few words, and stepped inside.

I didn’t know her—I’d never seen her before—but for some reason, her entering my home felt completely natural, as if it had always been meant to happen.

Faint shouts of children playing outside drifted in. It was evening.

She went to the kitchen, drank a glass of water, then walked into the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed.

Her skin was pale—not just white like a Westerner’s, but a delicate, Eastern porcelain-like pallor with a faint bluish undertone.

A skirt that reached just above her knees. Her right calf, slightly bulging where it pressed outward as she sat with legs crossed. Her hands resting gently on her lap, just above the hemline where skirt met thigh.

A woman who knows how to stir a man’s desire.

I guessed she was in her mid-thirties. Probably about ten years younger than me.

I lit a cigarette, and in the quiet room, the crackle of burning tobacco was startlingly clear.

I took one drag and my head ached, but I didn’t put it out—just kept smoking until the ember reached the filter.

I had nothing to say. I was still half-asleep.

“But… who are you?”

I rubbed my forehead with my left hand.

“The air in here is stale. Isn’t it uncomfortable, living alone like this?”

“Yes—but there’s comfort in that, too.”

She didn’t answer my question. Instead, I found myself obediently responding to hers.

Did she know me? It didn’t seem to matter.

Something had finally happened in my recent, pitiful existence—just eating, shitting, sleeping—that broke the monotony.

Slowly, curiosity began to stir.

We decided to eat first.

While she prepared food, I cleared bottles and dishes from the table. With nothing else to do, I wandered into the living room, sat in the rocking chair, and stared out the window.

A housewife walking by, clutching black plastic with green onion stalks poking out.

A middle-aged man, likely on his way home from work.

An old woman carrying a sleeping child on her back, passing under the faint glow of newly lit streetlamps.

“There’s not much to eat.”

I felt like a guest in someone else’s home. The kimchi stew even contained meat I’d forgotten had been frozen for months.

Her hair was neatly tied back, exposing her forehead, her clothes perfectly arranged—she gave off an air of cool detachment.

Yet at the same time, sharing a meal with her evoked a warmth I hadn’t felt since childhood—like eating with my mother, not my ex-wife.

“Why are you staring?”

She set her chopsticks down neatly and looked at me. Then she drank some water and went straight into the bedroom.

She was impossible to read—her words, her actions, everything. I finished my meal in silence.

When I entered the room, she was lying on the bed.

I glanced around, searching for cigarettes. I pulled one from the pack on the table, put it in my mouth, and lit it.

She sat up, plucked the cigarette from my lips, and crushed it in the ashtray. Then she stood upright, saying nothing, just staring at me.

What did she want from me?

I lifted my hands slightly to my sides, then let them fall. In response, she began unbuttoning her blouse—without a trace of hesitation.

She laid the blouse on the bed, then slid her skirt down. Her legs were smooth and perfectly shaped, tapering from thigh to calf without a single flaw.

I stood there, dazed, as if incapable of thought.

She dropped her bra to the floor, then peeled off her stockings and panties, placing them neatly beside her clothes.

Then she stepped forward, took my hand, and placed it firmly on her left breast.

What the hell was going on? Had I drunk too much last night and called some kind of escort?

No—I’d been drunk, yes, but not that drunk. And I had no memory of bringing anyone home.

Besides, she hadn’t mentioned money at all.

My head throbbed. And then, without thinking, I gripped her breast tightly.

“Ah, that hurts.”

She grabbed my arm, her voice soft but firm. I flinched at my own action and loosened my grip.

For a moment, her slightly furrowed expression reminded me of my late mother.

Was that why she’d come to mind during dinner?

She brushed her hand across my face, then moved down to my waist, pulling my sweater over my head.

All my doubts had already dissolved. I surrendered to the moment.

She unfastened my pants, pulled down the zipper, and I lifted my feet to step out completely. Over my boxers, she grasped my penis.

When I pulled them down, she dropped to her knees and took me into her mouth without delay, stroking me a few times with her hand before swallowing me whole.

Slowly, I began to harden.

She kept me deep in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the shaft, teasing the tip.

My cock rose fully now, proud and thick.

She pulled back with a soft pop, then began moving her lips up and down in steady, piston-like motions.

My head felt like it was expanding. My legs trembled slightly.

I shuffled forward unsteadily, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned back on my arms.

She followed, refusing to let go, sucking me relentlessly.

I reached out, untied the ribbon in her hair, and ran my fingers through it. It was like black silk.

“Mmm… hnn…”

“Uhh… mm…”

With her left hand, she caressed my waist. With her right, she massaged my balls. Saliva dripped, slick and warm.

“Haa… hnn…”

I felt myself melting. I lay back completely.

She rose urgently, climbed over me, and straddled my hips. My cock, gripped in her hand, slid into her.

“Hah… ah… haa… hnn…”

She let out a soft, strained moan, placing her hands on my chest as she began moving up and down.

Her pussy was slick with arousal.

I kneaded her breasts, and she responded by swaying her hips in fluid, undulating motions.

“Hah… nn… uh… hnn…”

I couldn’t breathe. I pulled her into me and rolled us over.

I shifted her body upward on the bed. My cock glistened with her wetness.

I ran my hand once over her slit, then thrust back inside. As I began moving slowly, then faster, she wrapped her legs around my waist.

I thrust with all my strength. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.

How long had it been since I’d moved like this—so actively, so alive? A drop of sweat from my jaw fell onto her breast.

“Haa… uh… more… more… deeper…”

She spread her arms wide and gripped the sheets tightly. I slowed my pace, bent down, and sucked one of her hard, dark brown nipples into my mouth.

I cupped her breasts in my hands, pushing them together, then alternated sucking each one. Overcome with emotion, I suddenly bit down hard on her left nipple.

“Ah!”

She cried out, then wrapped both arms around my head, pulling me fiercely against her chest. Her legs, which had been locked around me, now fell open.

I gasped, coughing.

She loosened her arms. I turned my head to the side and pressed my ear to her chest. Her heartbeat thudded, dreamlike and steady.

I slid down, tracing the small valley between her thighs with my fingers. I ran one finger slowly from bottom to top, drawing a delicate line.

When I brushed her clitoris, her body shuddered.

I lifted my wet fingers and pushed my tongue deep into her folds.

A rush of arousal spilled out. I stretched my tongue wide, swirling it inside, stirring every corner.

“Ah… hnn… haa…”

She writhed, gripping my hair tightly. I lifted my head, stood, and thrust back inside, rowing hard.

She reached up with trembling hands and wiped my wet mouth.

My vision began to yellow at the edges. Every nerve in my body converged into my cock.

“Ugh… hnn… now… now…”

I couldn’t speak. I exploded.

She felt me come and grabbed my back, pulling me tightly against her.

I convulsed violently one final time, then collapsed on top of her.

“Haa… haa… huu… haa…”

We lay still, catching our breath.

Five minutes passed. I opened my eyes, trying to gather my senses, and attempted to lift myself.

But the woman beneath me—her body seemed to be growing larger. No, the opposite—I was shrinking.

I tried to rise, but my spent cock remained trapped inside her, refusing to let go.

Starting from my cock, I began to shrink rapidly, dissolving, losing form.

Soon, I was sucked entirely into her.

Darkness. I trembled with anxiety, turning to look behind me. The entrance I’d come through was gone.

All I could sense was the dim awareness of my own shape merging with the twisting darkness around me.

But panic lasted only a moment.

My mind stilled. Warmth enveloped me, gentle and complete.

I closed my eyes.