Chapter 1 — Chains of Forgetting

The wave rushing toward the shore shattered violently against the unyielding rock, as if admitting its own weakness, scattering its broken body into white foam suspended in the air. As though waiting for this moment, the cold winter wind circling the beach lunged forward, whipping the spray straight at a solitary doll standing motionless.

But the wind, spiteful and mischievous, met no resistance—no flinch, no movement—as the foam struck the doll full in the face. Embarrassed by its own cruelty, the wind slunk away, fading along the desolate winter shoreline.

Jenny Han did not turn her gaze from the sea. She let the cold spray strike her face without reaction, eyes fixed on the horizon.

She endured yet again the icy wind's teasing assault, gusting in like an unwanted lover. But with each passing moment, she seemed to grow emptier, devoid of the will to respond. Slowly, silently, she turned her back on the shore and began walking away from the lonely winter beach.

"One black coffee, please."

"Okay..."

The man behind the counter—somewhere in his forties, likely the owner—glanced briefly at Jenny Han, a woman alone in this barren coastal solitude ordering coffee on a freezing day. He turned and murmured something to a woman seated nearby, probably his wife. They exchanged knowing looks. Surely, they thought, this woman must be wounded by love, or shaken by some great upheaval in her life. Otherwise, why would a woman come here, all alone, in the dead of winter?

But Jenny Han offered no reaction to their quiet curiosity. She simply stared blankly out the window.

As the rich aroma of coffee reached her nostrils and seeped into her body, she felt the numbness in her limbs begin to thaw, the cold slowly retreating from her frozen skin.

With warmth returning to her body, she refocused on the view outside—and then it came. A fragment of memory she had sworn never to revisit rose unbidden. Her face twisted in pain. She bit down hard on her lower lip.

---

"Honey... wait..."

"....."

Jenny Han stood frozen in place, clutching the bedsheet over her bare lower half, staring at her husband—who gaped at her, speechless. Then her eyes shifted to the other figure beside her: Sarah Lee, her closest friend, naked and caught mid-turn, unable to cover herself in time.

A tremor ran through Jenny Han's body. She clenched her jaw, biting her lip so tightly it nearly bled, glaring at the two exposed figures before her.

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. Without a word, she hurled the bundle in her hand at them and spun around, sprinting toward the front door.

Now, in the quiet café, Jenny Han shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the image that had just resurfaced. But behind closed lids, the memory burned brighter. Her hands trembled around the coffee cup—silent sobs trembling through her fingers.

Sarah Lee stared at David Kim, who sat motionless, silent. David Kim—the husband of her best friend, the man who had first taken her body.

In this moment, both of them stood paralyzed before the wreckage of their secret. They had been so careful. Yet now, everything was exposed.

Sarah Lee didn't know what to do. From the very beginning, she had known this might happen—sleeping with her best friend's husband. But for the past year, nothing had gone wrong. No suspicion, no discovery. Gradually, the guilt and fear that once gnawed at her had faded, replaced by a dangerous comfort.

And with that comfort came recklessness.

When Jenny Han traveled for work, Sarah Lee didn't just meet David Kim elsewhere—she came to their home, to their bed, and made love to him while the sheets still carried Jenny Han's scent. Sometimes, even when Jenny Han was home, they seized fleeting moments—quick, breathless sex in the hallway, against the kitchen counter, always racing the edge of ruin.

And somehow, they'd survived.

Until today.

Until Jenny Han walked in and found them exactly as they were—naked, side by side in bed, still lost in the afterglow of unfinished pleasure.

"Now what?"

"...."

Sarah Lee broke the silence first. David Kim only stared back, saying nothing, lighting cigarette after cigarette.

"David Kim..."

Her voice pressed him, urgent. He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and finally spoke.

"I don't... I don't know what to do either."

"...."

"We should talk to Jenny Han. But I don't know if it'll make any difference."

Meanwhile, in another room, far from the winter shore, a woman screamed beneath a man, her cries growing sharper, more desperate.

"Oh—ahh! Haaah… Kim Manager… Kim Manager…"

"Hah… hah… ahh…!"

"I can't take it… I'm going crazy… ah… haaah…!"

"Yeah… Mi-young… I'll drive you crazy… hah… hah…!"

Their bodies thrashed together, louder and wilder. As if echoing their frenzy, thick, wet sounds burst from between the woman's legs—slippery, rhythmic, impossible to ignore.

Slap… slap… squelch… thrust… thrust…

Thrust… thrust… slap… slap… squelch…

"I'm burning up… Kim Manager… I can't—!"

"Hah… hah… ugh…!"

Pound… thrust… squelch… crack…

The sound of their hips colliding echoed through the room, mingling with the slick friction of flesh grinding against flesh. Their excitement surged. They pressed closer, moving faster, noisier, consumed by the heat.

"Ha… ha… Mi-young… get on your hands and knees."

After pounding her for what felt like hours, the man pulled back, gripping her waist, urging her onto all fours. Weak from pleasure, she slowly turned, lowering her chest onto the bed. He grabbed her hips and lifted her rear high into the air. Now, her face buried in the sheets, her ass raised skyward, she writhed her pussy, twitching and moaning, begging silently for him to enter.

"Ahhh… Manager… hurry… please… faster…"

"Ha… ha… huff…"

But he didn't plunge in. Not yet.

Despite her pleas, he held back, gripping her pale, uplifted buttocks with both hands, guiding the tip of his cock to hover just above her glistening slit. He breathed heavily, savoring the anticipation.

"Haah… Manager, please… what are you doing… hurry up…!"

Impatient, she turned her face from the mattress, eyes pleading—just as he lunged forward, driving his cock deep into her dripping core in one fierce thrust.

"Aaagh—! Haaak…! Uuugh…!"

Startled by the sudden invasion, she screamed, mouth wide open, grabbing fistfuls of crumpled sheets and smashing her forehead into the bed as if to muffle her cries.

Thrust… thrust… deep… pound… thrust… thrust…

"Aaagh… ahh…! Kim Manager… haaah…!"

His pelvis slammed into her raised ass with brutal force, penetrating deeper with every stroke. Overwhelmed by waves of pleasure, she arched her back, wrapping her extended legs around his thighs, swaying her hips wildly back and forth.

"Haaah… huff… Mi-young… I'm gonna cum… huff…!"

"Ahh… no… wait… just a little longer… please… I'm close too… haaah…!"

Still chasing her peak, she begged him to hold back. He gritted his teeth and kept thrusting, refusing to stop.

"Huff… huff… haaah…!"

"Ahh… I can feel it… Manager… I can feel it… haaah…!"

"Mi-young… I can't… anymore… haaah…!"

"Haah… me neither… Kim Manager… me neither… haaah…!"

She felt his cock twitch inside her, then erupt—hot spurts of semen pulsing against her inner walls. With her ass lifted high, she rocked up and down, riding the crashing wave of climax, surrendering completely to the flood.

"How was it? Today's sex…?"

"I don't know..."

He lit a cigarette, watching her. Moments ago, she had been screaming, trembling, lost in ecstasy. Now, shy and flushed, she buried her face in his chest.

"I asked you—was it good?"

"Yes… it was good…"

"How good? Good enough to die for?"

"....."

"Tell me. How good was it?"

"... So much… so much…"

No sooner had she whispered the words than she blushed deeper, pulling the bedsheet over her face. He smiled, satisfied, bringing the cigarette to his lips. Sang-hoon exhaled a long stream of smoke, replaying the sex with Mi-young in his mind, smiling to himself.

With each encounter, Mi-young's hidden instincts emerged more boldly. At first, she had trembled helplessly beneath him, barely able to follow his rhythm, overwhelmed by shame and sensation.

But now, she knew how to enjoy it.

She still blushed at his crude jokes afterward—retaining a trace of innocence—but in the moment of sex, she had become a woman ablaze.

"I wonder what happened to Section Chief Han…"

"Who knows. He hasn't shown up at work for over a week. Phone's off. Can't reach him at all."