As evening arrived, the kitchen transformed into a battlefield.

Since it was an event for the Aylesford Group, they seemed to be using the entire restaurant. The kitchen was deafening with shouts and cooking sounds, and the prepared ingredients were depleted in an instant.

Two of the courses had been served. Now it was time for the main.

Even though it was a Christmas party, the guests were VIPs—it was a company so large that everyone filling the restaurant was effectively royalty. Therefore, while a regular company would serve the same menu to everyone, today guests could choose from several main courses, prepared to their desired doneness. As a result, the steak station was swamped with requests to cook steaks according to the guests’ preferences.

Above the staff sweating over the heat, papers listing the attendees’ names, their preferences, and the total number of dishes ordered fluttered like frantic birds.

The incident occurred as serving was nearing completion.

The floor manager came over, holding a plate of steak, and said to the sous chef.

“There’s been a mistake. It was supposed to be served rare, but it came out well-done.”

The sous chef looked at him as if asking why this was his problem. Serving steak was the floor servers’ job, wasn’t it?

“But the customer requested it be remade by someone who doesn’t smoke.”

At those words, the sous chef’s expression contorted into a pinched grimace. He had something to hide. He had strictly warned the head chef, who worked under him, not to even think about smoking while on duty. He confirmed that the head chef was out of earshot of the floor manager and gritted his teeth.

“Who the hell is he to say something like that? And why are you listening to every little thing? You should have just brought it out medium-rare.”

“He’s that kind of customer. Ian Aylesford, the heir to Aylesford. So hurry up and cook it. Someone who doesn’t smoke, as requested.”

The sous chef scoffed.

“I remember that guy always eating his steak well-done. What rare? Did he suddenly develop a taste for raw food?”

Ian Aylesford.

Even amidst the commotion, the name sliced through the din and was clearly heard. Jina flinched for a moment, nearly cutting her hand on her knife, but narrowly avoided it.

As expected, he came too.

She had a bad feeling from the moment she heard the name Aylesford Group.

Is he well enough to attend parties?

She had heard that those injured at the mansion were all hospitalized, but he seemed to have already been discharged, well enough to return straight to London.

Her grip on the knife tightened involuntarily. The person who had ruined the situation was out enjoying the party, while she was enduring all sorts of harassment and bullying, working until her hands were raw. A surge of bitter self-pity burned in her throat.

After the floor manager left, the sous chef continued to express his irritation.

“How the hell am I supposed to know if he smokes or not? Is he pretending to be a gourmet in front of others by sending it back like this?”

Nevertheless, he cooked another piece of steak rare. The words “heir to Aylesford” carried undeniable weight.

Because it was ordered rare, the steak was served quickly. But soon, the floor manager returned, slamming the plate down.

“Are you kidding me? He wants it remade again!”

When the most important guest asked for the food to be remade twice, the floor manager finally lost his temper. Throwing the food down like a famous, enraged TV chef, he glared at the sous chef and said.

“Be thankful the head chef hasn’t noticed yet! Please, just get it right!”

Having become extremely sensitive from catering to VIP demands all day, he yelled and stormed out.

A moment of silence fell over the kitchen. Everyone held their breath, looking at the sous chef.

“Ah, fuck.”

The sous chef threw the returned food, plate and all, into the trash can. As he turned his head, others quickly averted their gaze.

He wanted to cook it himself this time, but if the dish was returned again, it would be a real problem. As the floor manager said, it was fortunate the head chef didn’t know about this situation yet; if he found out, the sous chef would be the one on the chopping block, possibly fired on the spot.

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, he looked at the other chefs around him.

“Damn it.”

All those in charge of the main course were the ones who smoked together behind the hotel.

Does he really know?

It was possible. He was the heir to the Aylesford Group, after all. Someone who only ate the finest things might have a sensitive sense of smell and taste.

Thinking that, cold sweat trickled down his back. It had been sent back twice, so if he brought out something he cooked again, he certainly wouldn’t receive any praise.

As if realizing this, no one stepped forward. They knew better than anyone that getting caught by the sous chef now would only make them a scapegoat sent out to apologize.

Just then, Jina caught the sous chef’s eye.

“You there….”

The sous chef, fumbling because he couldn’t remember her name, gestured for Jina to come over as she looked at him. The faces of those around him relaxed. The scapegoat for this mess had been decided.

“You make it and take it out.”

“What? Me?”

After refusing to teach her how to make sauce, he was suddenly asking her to make and serve the main course, steak.

“Yes, you wrote down that you don’t smoke when you applied, didn’t you?”

Of course. That was a mandatory requirement for applicants here. Even though, upon starting, she found the sous chef and his group were all smokers, which was absurd.

Jina stared at the sous chef for a moment. It seemed he was determined to send her out as a substitute. If she refused to do it here…

“Ha…”

A hollow laugh escaped her. Truly, a terrible boss and a terrible customer. Should she just drop everything and walk out?

For a brief moment, she considered it, but then she dismissed the thought.

She was working now. While others were acting unprofessionally, the kitchen had a duty to satisfy the customers’ palates.

Jina put down the knife she was holding. The blade grazed the back of her hand.

A stinging pain made blood well up, but fortunately, it was just a scratch, not a deep cut. She quickly wiped away the blood and stood before the grill.

Was this meat from Aylesford too?

The filet mignon prepared was undeniably top-grade. She could tell the moment she saw it. Her mouth watered involuntarily.

Jina quickly cooked the steak. After resting it and plating it, as she was about to pick it up to take it out, blood smeared from the knuckle of her finger, which had been scratched by the blade before cooking.

Damn it.

Jina quickly wiped the bloodstained area with a clean kitchen towel. It was on the side of the plate, not on the food, and barely visible, so she decided there was no need to get a new plate.

It’s not like he’s a pretty boy.

Hearing that the meat was for Ian Aylesford, she felt a surge of rage, wanting to roll it on the floor three times… but she had to restrain herself.

When she brought the steak, the floor manager looked at her with distrust. Then, he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“If the customer sends it back again, you’ll have to go out and apologize yourself.”

“Yes.”

Let whatever happens, happen. Jina replied curtly and returned to her station. Jessie, next to her, whispered.

“What are you going to do? It looks like you’ll end up taking all the blame.”

“What can I do? When they’re determined to pin it on me, what power do I have?”

Ignoring the furtive glances from others, Jina continued her work. A moment later, the floor manager entered.

Ah, the inevitable had arrived.

“The steak just now….”

Before the sous chef could point her out, Jina raised her hand first.

“Yes, I made it.”

Then the floor manager said urgently, as if in a hurry.

“Take off your apron and follow me.”

At his words, Jina took off her apron and shoved it under the counter as if throwing it away. As if they had expected it, the sous chef and his group snickered. Just then, the floor manager said, loud enough for them to hear.

“This time, the customer praised it highly. He specifically wants to see the person who made it, so let’s go together.”

Following the floor manager through several doors, the surroundings changed instantly.

Instead of the strong cooking smells that had filled the air moments before, a subtle, refreshing scent reached her nose. Instead of shouts, the sound of chopping, and clattering dishes, calm music flowed through the hall.

As if she had suddenly landed in another world, Jina followed the floor manager with an awkward expression.

Soon, seeing Ian sitting at a table on one side, Jina paused for a moment.

Strange.

The moment she saw him, Jina felt an inexplicable sense of incongruity.

Ian’s attire was impeccable. He wore a perfectly fitted, high-end suit, and his hair was neatly styled. He looked as if he had stepped right out of a men’s luxury catalog.

He hadn’t been like this when they first met.

Of course, even then, it was clear he was overflowing with money. But the atmosphere was completely different from now. In crude terms, he had a strangely thuggish aura.

He was a man who seemed desperate to flaunt his wealth, the very embodiment of obnoxious snobbism. That’s why she had inwardly scoffed at him.

She had thought that even all that money couldn’t hide his inherent vulgarity.

But now…

Her throat dried out with every step she took toward him.

There was no designated head table in the restaurant, but the entire room knew where the power was anchored. The man, Ian Aylesford, was the point of gravity, seated with his back to the grand window overlooking the Thames, every casual word he spoke an order.

He was a total dominator, uniquely striking even among men dressed in the same uniform of wealth.

No one looked at their partners; they were all staring at him, utterly entranced. His laughter was their cue; his rejection was their private heartbreak. The party wasn’t a celebration; it was a mass act of sycophantic submission to Ian Aylesford.

Was this what he was like?

No. It couldn’t be right.

The Ian Aylesford she remembered was a good-looking piece of trash, devoid of grace, respect, or this terrifying, cold charisma. She had expected him to be drunk and sloppy by now, making a fool of himself. Seeing this was a shock. For a moment, she had the absurd, chilling thought that this wasn’t the man she knew. It was a completely different creature wearing his face.

“Hah.” The involuntary snort escaped her, a sharp, dismissive sound. Every head nearby snapped toward her.

The polite, manufactured laughter in the restaurant vanished, replaced by an ice-cold silence. She felt the chill of dozens of judging eyes.

Did I really make that much noise?

Jina stood before him. The floor manager murmured his introduction and stepped away. Ian didn’t spare the manager a glance, his entire focus fixed on Jina.

“It’s you,” he said. “From the Kno Diarg Mansion.”

His voice was deep, resonant, and struck a chord somewhere deep in her chest, stealing her strength. She’d heard it before, but it felt utterly foreign coming from him.

Jina braced her trembling legs. She’d met Ian in front of an office, not at the mansion. Why was he framing their first encounter that way?

He smiled as she unconsciously took a step back.

“No need to be nervous,” he murmured. “The steak was truly delicious. I simply wanted to thank the chef.”

He lightly tapped the side of the plate with his finger. Jina’s breath caught in her throat. The spot he touched was precisely where her blood had stained.

Her body locked up.

Did he see? Is he calling me out to humiliate me in front of all these people?

She bit her tongue, fighting to reclaim control. Impossible. He wasn’t a hound; there was no way he could have detected the faint trace of blood she’d instantly wiped away.

Ian smiled, perhaps sensing her defensive posture. “As soon as it was served, I knew it had been prepared by a different hand.”

He was perfectly polite, formal, and elegant. The fact that this same man had treated her so crudely before only twisted the knife deeper.

“The earlier steak was sickeningly awful. That terrible taste of nicotine. I’m surprised no one else noticed it.”

Jina offered no reply. She was sensitive to food, too. She wouldn’t touch anything handled by a smoker. But smelling that trace from a grilled steak? That bordered on the super-human. Yet, Ian spoke of it as if it were a simple fact.

A brief silence fell. Ian spoke again. “Are you going to continue working here?”

What business is it of yours?

The words nearly clawed their way out.

“For the time being,” she said flatly. “But I will quit soon.” Her contract ran through the Christmas season. Two weeks, at most. She’d be gone the moment it ended.

As Ian continued to converse with Jina, the focus of the entire room intensified. They were ravenous to know why he was talking to the kitchen staff. The head chef was one of the spectators. Seeing Jina in the uniform, he approached the floor manager with a bewildered look. After a hushed exchange, his face turned beet-red, and he bolted back toward the kitchen.

Oh, God. The kitchen. Her head throbbed. The thought of walking back into that inevitable, suffocating atmosphere made her stomach churn.

“If you have nothing else to say,” she stated, “may I return to work?”

Her tone was cold, even to her own ears. The woman next to Ian looked at her with startled reproach, silently asking: Do you know who you’re talking to?

She expected Ian to be embarrassed, to dismiss her to placate the woman.

“Ah, I apologize for bothering you during your busy schedule,” he said, his smile never faltering. “Thank you once again. I was finally able to fill my stomach, thanks to you.”

Annoyingly, he remained perfectly polite. As if he were a man of immense refinement and courtesy from the start.

Jina excused herself curtly, wished him a pleasant meal, and fled toward the kitchen.

She felt the weight of every gaze on her back as she retreated. Just as she slipped through the door, she heard the head chef’s voice, sharp and loud, from across the room.

She didn’t need to see to guess the atmosphere. Jina stopped walking and pressed her back against the cool wall.

“I’m going to die,” she thought, the feeling of suffocation already tightening her chest.

Things were about to get much, much harder. What made it worse was the fresh, burning humiliation of having to be polite—to say “Yes, yes,” and wish him well—to Ian Aylesford, the bastard who had plunged her into this impossible situation.

After a long, agonizing wait, when the noise level finally suggested the fire had been contained, Jina entered.

As expected, the atmosphere was a grim, radioactive cloud. The sous chef glared, clicked his tongue in disgust, and turned his back. His cronies followed suit.

As she returned to her station and tied her apron, Jessie whispered.

“The head chef chewed out the sous chef and his lot,” Jessie hissed. “It’s the busy season, so no one got fired, but he said if this happens again, he’ll use a frying pan to smash their heads. They’re all on thin ice.”

Jessie’s hands moved busily. “Anyway, be careful. The sous chef will definitely be after you now. He’s petty as hell.”

Jina nodded. He was a small, vile man; he would cling to this public humiliation like a lifeline.

It’s almost over anyway.

Two weeks. She’d keep her head down and avoid trouble.

Jina put a disposable band-aid on her cut finger and pulled on her nitrile gloves. The memory of Ian’s finger tapping the exact spot where her blood had been lingered—it couldn’t be a coincidence. It felt like he knew something had been there.

Ah, forget it. Just work.

A short while later, as preparations for the final course began and additional customer orders flooded in, the kitchen exploded into chaos again. Amidst the frantic movements, Jina lost the mental composure to spare a single thought for Ian Aylesford.

The party was finally staggering to a close. Despite the dignified venue, some guests had succumbed to their intoxication, slumped in their chairs, while others stumbled, barely able to stand.

One such person approached Ian.

“Ian! You almost died, but you look fine?”

Ian calmly regarded the man. His gaze was cautious, assessing the man as if he were either predator or, more likely, prey.

“Ian?” The man, Richard, seemed to sense the shift even through his drunken haze. He blinked, then Ian smiled and opened his mouth.

“Ah, Richard.”

Richard laughed and clapped Ian on the shoulder, the gesture too familiar.

“Did you hit your head when you fell? Anyone would think we hadn’t seen each other in ages. We were drinking together the day before the accident.”

Richard chuckled and gestured to the woman next to Ian. She was the daughter of a fairly high-ranking executive at the Aylesford Group, but she scrambled up, vacating her seat at Richard’s blatant demand. The woman moved for two reasons: Richard was the son of a major corporation, and he was a notorious playboy—a name that promised nothing good for anyone who caught his eye.

Richard licked his lips, watching her hurried retreat, then slumped into the vacated seat as if deciding he couldn’t be bothered with her today.

“You were hospitalized, weren’t you? How are you feeling? I told you not to do anything foolish. Starting your own business, upsetting your old man with all that…”

Richard picked up a glass of wine, not his own, and wet his lips. His gaze, as he looked at Ian, sitting there so effortlessly casual, was laced with a hidden displeasure.

In truth, Richard hated Ian.

Richard was the talentless third son of a wealthy family; Ian, equally incompetent, was the sole heir of Aylesford.

Ian’s parents had died young, leaving the chairman to raise him as his sole, cherished heir. He grew up exactly as predicted: a dissolute rake, a man who had never feared consequences.

Despite attending the best schools, his grades were abysmal, and he fixed most issues with money, from admission to graduation. The chairman had tried to groom him as an Aylesford executive, but Ian, bored, simply did as he pleased.

He lived immersed in flashy, vulgar parties, a walking catalog of vices. The one thing he avoided was drugs—a line his father absolutely would not tolerate. Thus, Ian was diligently treading every path of corruption available to a wealthy young man, except for that one.

Then, a video channel operator he’d met God-knows-where had coaxed Ian into investing, spouting nonsense like:

‘The world is the era of content. Farming has its limits. This will be Aylesford’s new beginning.’

To Richard, it was utterly ridiculous. He was financing a channel that looked like a child’s project, talking about “media business” and content. Then the idiot almost died. Pathetically, too—falling through the floor into a basement after illegally entering some old house.

Lucky bastard. He still gets Aylesford.

The thought was a knot of envy in his gut. Hiding his true feelings, Richard continued to orbit Ian, giving him what he wanted and acting as a loyal subordinate.

Richard’s own family business had already been carved up by his capable older siblings. His best bet was a minor, powerless position. But if he stayed close to Ian? He might secure a respectable position in an Aylesford subsidiary.

So, Richard leaned in and whispered to Ian. “Next Wednesday night. You’ve kept it free, right?”

“Wednesday? What’s happening?”

“Didn’t you get the message from Jeremy? ‘The Night of No Questions Asked.’ It’s here this year.”

Then, in a lower voice, thick with anticipation, he added, “Let’s have a wild time again this year.”

Richard shuddered at the thought. Jeremy was known to be the dirtiest, most debauched of their peers, openly boasting he only hired the most expensive call girls in London.

As the grandson of an Aylesford competitor, he would summon women famous for their perversion and sensuality from Soho during Christmas. They would rent out an entire floor of a hotel for the year-end party, known simply as ‘The Night of No Questions Asked.’

In just a few years, it had become the most sought-after invitation among wealthy youths who needed to prove they were in the scene.

Ian was a perennial VIP; and Richard was only allowed in as Ian’s shadow.

At Richard’s words, Ian paused, then nodded as if just recalling the detail.

“Ah, that… it’s here this year?”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

Ian smiled and shook his head. He glanced down at the plate on his table and said, “The food is this delicious. Why would I dislike it?”

The rare steak he had just praised was sitting on the plate, completely untouched.

After the Aylesford Group party, the kitchen atmosphere plummeted from grim to toxic. The head chef was a constant presence, and anyone handling the main course was subjected to a surprise smoking check if they left their station, even briefly. One unfortunate soul, complacent from habit, smoked and was instantly fired. After that, no one dared to light up.

Only a week left now?

Aside from Jessie and a few other temps, no one spoke to her, but Jina felt a sense of relief. Anywhere else would be better. She wished for the last day to come quickly.

As Christmas drew near, the large parties dwindled. Most people had fled London for their hometowns and families. The only ones left were tourists hoping for a magical Christmas, unaware of the quiet period, or people who had nowhere else to be.

“Ugh, my hands are cold.” Jina rubbed her hands as she walked into the hotel. Her hands were raw and swollen from cleaning all day yesterday—the sous chef’s latest maneuver. He had initially forced her to come in early to prep ingredients. Once that dried up, he simply switched her duties to kitchen cleaning.

“Now you’ll do the entire kitchen deep clean every day,” he’d snarled. “Organize it well!” He ordered the weekly deep cleaning done daily. She’d considered quitting over the blatant harassment, but she couldn’t.

If I quit first, I lose the bonus.

As a temporary employee hired for the peak season, she’d get an extra £1,000 if she stayed until the end of her term.

There was only a week left. She couldn’t give that up.

Her contract, which allowed for arbitrary working hour adjustments, prevented her from arguing. Rather than feeling hurt, she was almost amused.

This was the extent of the small man’s power.

What truly terrified Jina wasn’t this low-level harassment, but the monstrous debt payments due next month.

After finishing the deep clean, it was time to leave. Jessie, who also worked the late-night room service shift after the restaurant closed, came to find Jina.

“Jina, I’m so sorry, but could you work room service for me today? I slammed into a corner earlier, and I don’t think I can manage it.”

“Oh my God, let me see.” She looked at Jessie’s uniform. Her side was badly scraped, a bruise already darkening against her skin.

“You can’t work like that. Go home, Jessie.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell the manager.”

After Jessie left, wincing with every step, Jina headed to the hotel kitchen.

This is good.

The sous chef’s petty scheduling had already guaranteed a smaller paycheck than anticipated.

Even just for tonight, it’ll help pay off the debt.

She had tried to get the late-night room service shift before; the pay was great, the work was light, but the positions were always full.

Thinking of the hourly rate, she went to meet the manager. After the handover and seeing the prepared items, Jina couldn’t hide her surprise.

“There’s more prepared than I expected.”

The prepared food and ingredients—snacks, light meals, high-end charcuterie—far exceeded her expectations for a quiet night.

“Do you get this many room service orders?”

It was the holiday season; guests were expected to dine out. This was an expensive hotel, where the price of room service was astronomical. Yet, the kitchen was prepped for a deluge of orders.

The attendant offered a wry smile at Jina’s question.

“It’s only today.”

“Only today?”

“Orders will start coming in after midnight. They’re all going up to the 14th floor.” He lowered his voice, hesitant. “You know how it is… the rich and reckless types rent out entire floors to party a bit… crudely, let’s say.”

Jina managed a thin smile. She’d seen it before, working in other exclusive venues. “Can’t they do that at their own villas?”

“They used to, but the press started sniffing around, hoping to catch something. Too much risk, things go missing, and the cleanup is a nightmare. The hotel must be more convenient.” He rattled off the logistics of their debauchery as if explaining a new catering menu. “You won’t have to go near the 14th floor, though. Only designated staff can enter that area today. Oh, and here comes someone you know. He’s arriving now.”

Someone she knew? Jina turned her head and saw the sous chef entering the room.

The moment their eyes met, both Jina and the sous chef’s expressions curdled. It was going to be a difficult night.

Contrary to the dread that coiled in her stomach, the work flowed more smoothly than expected. After midnight, the sous chef, who had been glaring daggers at Jina, was nowhere to be seen.

Is he not coming down from the 14th floor at all?

Thanks to his absence, Jina exchanged brief greetings with other staff who knew Jessie and began prepping the food.

As the attendant had predicted, the orders started flooding in after midnight. Most were appetizers—designated through staff only—like cheese and ham. The expensive cheeses, rarely touched in the restaurant where she usually worked, disappeared at a rapid pace. The same went for the finest hams. Even a simple cheese plate cost as much as her weekly salary. These were orders placed without a glance at a price list.

Once the food went out in a steady stream, the kitchen quickly grew quiet. The remaining staff clustered, gossiping about what might be unfolding on the 14th floor.

“Did you see the women going up on the staff elevator earlier? They were something else.”

“Are they really doing drugs?”

“Wouldn’t it be stranger if they weren’t? I heard they even brought a doctor in case something happens.” They were excited, energized by the vicarious decadence of the wealthy.

“I’d like to see it.”

“I’m good. It would just be disgusting to watch.”

“They say they do all sorts of things. Spreading money on the floor, pouring wine on themselves, and you can take whatever sticks to your body.”

“Oh, what I heard is even more disgusting than that. They say they can take as much as they can fit up their butts. And some people feed them their own excrement.”

The listeners gagged. “What kind of people are they?”

“What kind? They’re future Prime Ministers.”

“It might not just be future ones. The current one might be there too.”

“So that’s where my taxes are going, into a prostitute’s ass,” someone muttered cynically.

The conversation quickly shifted to the sheer volume of wine going up and the tips the 14th-floor staff would receive.

“Only people who’ve worked here for a long time would have gone. Or people they know well. You know, like the sous chef from the restaurant that always supports them on these nights…” The staff member who spoke glanced at Jina.

Jina shrugged with a wry smile. “I hate that bastard, so you can keep talking.”

Her words made them laugh in understanding, and the conversation flowed on.

She sat separately, scrolling through her mobile phone. She’d lost her old one in Edinburgh and bought a new one without a backup; all her messages were gone. She could recover them, but the company demanded an additional fee. She’d hesitated, debated, and finally given up.

I didn’t have anything saved separately anyway.

Then, a sudden memory—her phone ringing frantically the day she went to the mansion, a Korean woman calling and texting repeatedly. What had she wanted to say?

Jina’s hand hovered over the ‘Restore’ button several times. But in the end, she couldn’t press it. It’s not pride, it’s money, she muttered to herself.

How much time had passed?

Even the gossips had fallen quiet, dozing in corners or fiddling silently with their phones, when a room service attendant rushed in.

“Can a few people help me out here? The ice machine upstairs is broken, and I need to get some ice from downstairs.”

He pointed to Jina and two others nearby. They grumbled but complied, filling large containers. It was a welcome change from sitting idle. She even felt a spark of curiosity, wondering if she might get a glimpse of the 14th floor.

The attendant guided them to the staff elevator, spoke into his radio, and sent them up. When the doors opened, a staff member waiting there led them quickly inside, issuing a grave warning.

“Don’t look at anything. Finish your task and come straight back down.”

They soon understood why he had said that.

The 14th floor was a scene of utter, pandemonium. It was as if Sodom and Gomorrah had rented out a luxury penthouse—every kind of obscenity, debauchery, and perversion imaginable choked the air.

Most of the doors stood open. From within those rooms, the sounds of wet flesh, moans, and groans echoed loudly.

Jina’s body stiffened with primal fear and disgust. The other staff members were no different. The reality was more revolting than any rumor. The three of them hurried to the ice machine, pouring in the ice they had brought.

The two in front poured; Jina was last. As she finished emptying the final container and turned around, a man suddenly burst out of the next room, blocking her path.

“Did I order this?”

“No, I’m kitchen staff—”

“Ack!” Before she could finish, the man grabbed Jina by the hair and cackled.

“You’ll be next.” He yanked her hair hard. Even in the chaotic situation, his words were horribly clear: Next, it’s you. She didn’t need to ask what that meant.

“No! Let go!”

As Jina cried out, the man’s grip on her hair loosened. Just as she thought she was free—

Thwack!

A terrible pain erupted, and her vision turned white. The surroundings spun, and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet her.

“Cough!” As she coughed violently, she realized she had been punched in the face. While she blinked, struggling to comprehend, the staff who had come with her rushed over in surprise. But they were quickly restrained and stopped by the staff managing the 14th floor. Soon, they were organized and pushed into the elevator, disappearing from sight.

Thwack!

Another dull thud echoed, and a sharp pain struck the back of her head as she lay there. Jina covered her head with her hands and curled up. She couldn’t think. All she could do was try to block the inevitable blows.

As expected, the assault didn’t stop. The hard tip of a shoe kicked her back and side again. Jina moaned, curling up tighter.

Just minutes ago, she had been sitting in the quiet kitchen, bored, earning her hourly wage. But why now… Her mind couldn’t accept the abruptness of the violence.

“Damn it, the lower class only listens when you beat them.” Laughter echoed above Jina’s frozen form.

She saw staff members in hotel uniforms in her blurred vision—the very people who had worked so professionally downstairs. When a disturbance arose in the hotel, they were quick to mediate. Yet, these staff members were doing nothing as she lay there, fallen.

“Ugh!” The man who had been kicking her grabbed her arm and dragged her like prey. He pulled her into the room next to them and threw her onto the edge of the bed. Then, he rummaged beside the bed, looking for something.

Jina staggered and tried to get up. In her spinning vision, she saw a woman lying on the bed—completely naked, in a grotesque pose. Her body was covered in bruises, and a milky, sticky fluid flowed between her legs, spread wide.

But what tightened Jina’s breath even more were the small bruises on the woman’s arm. And the syringe rolling nearby. The meaning was obvious.

The man turned around. In his hand was a syringe identical to the one that had fallen beside the woman. He smiled at Jina.

“It’s no fun when they’ve all been injected. Their fake acting is boring. But… you might be fun. It’s rare to find someone who screams so much that they don’t want it.”

He took another step closer. “My grandfather told me not to touch ordinary people… but Christmas is coming soon, isn’t it? I’ll have to ask them to quietly dispose of you as a gift.”

“Ugh…” She wanted to scream immediately, but only a low groan escaped her chattering teeth.

Staring blankly at the approaching man, she immediately turned and fled. I have to escape. That was the only coherent thought left. She forced strength into her wobbly legs and stumbled into the hallway. But the pain from the kicks, her dizzy vision, and her injured leg betrayed her.

After only a few steps, Jina was grabbed by the hair again. As she struggled and resisted, the buttons of her chef’s uniform came undone, and the front became tattered. The man watched, not with pity, but with an expression of intrigued cruelty.

“This is interesting. Maybe next year I’ll try hunting them outside. I wonder who has a hunting ground. It would be more fun if they were naked and forced to run away.”

The man threw Jina onto the bed and pinned her down with his body. A clear drop fell from the tip of the syringe he held.

“You don’t have to be too scared. Soon you’ll be begging for more, licking my feet.”

He grabbed Jina’s arm and brought the syringe close.

“Aaaargh!”

The man screamed in pain as something sharp scratched his arm, and he collapsed to the side. Jina immediately got up and scrambled out from beneath him. In her hand was another syringe that had been rolling on the bed.

“You!” Seeing the blood seeping through his torn shirt, the man gritted his teeth.

Jina, now free, grabbed whatever she could from the nearby table and hurled it at him. Plates and food flew, hitting the man’s face.

“You son of a bitch! Die! You crazy bastard! Get lost! You fucking bastard!” A torrent of curses, a chaotic mix of English and Korean, poured from her mouth. When there was nothing left to throw, she hurled trays, the phone, and other decorations at the man.

“You bitch!”

The man blocked the flying objects with his arms and tried to grab Jina. Just then, someone appeared. Standing there with a surprised expression was the sous chef.

He looked back and forth between Jina and the man, then quickly entered.

“Help… cough!” Before Jina could finish speaking, the sous chef’s fist struck her stomach. He was a large man, and the punch was a powerful blow that momentarily stole her breath.

As she knelt, gasping, the sous chef slammed his knee into her back and tied Jina’s wrists with a fallen napkin. He then addressed the man who was about to attack Jina.

“You won’t be able to run wild now.”

“You crazy bastard! Let go! I’ll report all of you!”

As Jina struggled, the sous chef pressed down harder with his knee.

“Ack!” Jina swallowed her breath, unable to even groan, at the sheer malice of the hulking man’s action. Seemingly pleased, the sous chef applied even more force. Her back felt like it was breaking, and her chest, crushed by his weight, couldn’t draw air.

Unable to even resist, Jina’s body went limp. The sous chef looked at the man, as if boasting about his catch. It was the look of a loyal subordinate awaiting praise.

Seeing that Jina and the sous chef wore the same kitchen uniform, the man chuckled with even more amusement. He reached into a bag beside the bed and showered the sous chef with bills.

The sous chef bowed, scooped them up, and stuffed them into his pocket. He then stood up and lifted Jina, throwing her onto the bed.

He quickly exited the room. Before he left, his eyes met hers. The sous chef smirked mockingly, then disappeared down the hallway.

“Well then, shall we start again? I’m curious how long you can keep this up.”

The man picked up the syringe he had dropped and climbed back onto Jina’s body. He spread her legs with his knees and positioned himself between them. Jina saw his engorged lower body. With instinctive revulsion, she screamed and twisted, but he deliberately rubbed himself against her, as if enjoying her terror.

“You’re already this excited before we even start. What will you do later?”

Then, the man swung his hand.

Slap!

Jina’s head snapped back from the forceful blow to her cheek. Her gaze, now turned toward the hallway, found nothing but empty space. There were people out there. People who, just hours—minutes—ago, had been working alongside her. Now, no matter how much she called, they wouldn’t come.

She knew from the sous chef’s subservient attitude: this man held considerable power here. To escape, she needed someone with greater power than him. But among such people, there was no one who would help her. The muffled screams, moans, and cries from other rooms reached her ears. Everyone on this floor was like him.

“Ugh, hic…” She had tried to hold out, but the sheer fear of helplessness was stealing her strength. She wanted help. Anyone. Please, someone save her. But she didn’t know who to call. Even if she did, she doubted they would actually save her.

The tip of the syringe in the man’s hand glinted in the light. Seeing it, she realized why such incidents never made the news. The victims were made accomplices, preventing them from reporting.

“Now, don’t cry. Be a good girl, okay?”

She realized she was crying at the man’s disgusting voice. Her cries, unfinished, turned into choked gasps. Just as she felt a sharp coldness at the tip of her arm—

Thump!

With a dull thud, the man pinning her body disappeared. She couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. All she could perceive was that the disgusting pressure on her body had vanished.

As the man rolled on the floor, Jina could only gasp for breath, momentarily paralyzed. Then, a muffled groan came from under the bed, confirming that the man had fallen to the side.

Who?

Who on earth had helped her here? Jina turned her head. She felt she could give anything to the person who had kicked the man away. As she thought this and turned her head, the person standing there was someone she had never expected.

“Ian… Aylesford?”

It was truly the last person she would have imagined.

“Why…?” Even in this moment of salvation, she was bewildered. She wouldn’t have been this surprised if the sous chef had returned and saved her. But why would someone in the same position as the man trying to attack her help her?

Ian didn’t answer. He picked up the syringe that had fallen onto the bed. He brought it close to his face and sniffed it. His expression immediately twisted into something menacing.

“This bastard.”

His voice was low and elegant, even while uttering a curse. Like a nobleman who had learned vulgarity for the first time, he spoke with decorum, then tightened his grip on the syringe.

Crack! The plastic syringe shattered in Ian’s hand with absurd, effortless ease.

The liquid inside the broken syringe ran down Ian’s hand. As if disgusted by the contamination, he picked up a wine bottle rolling on the floor and washed his hands with the remaining wine.

Could a syringe break that easily?

Jina merely gaped at the unbelievable display.

Ian immediately walked over and kicked the fallen man.

Thwack! Thwack!

The kicks were delivered with naked murderous intent.

“You, Ian! Gasp Why…!” The fallen man tried to stop him, his voice choked with blood, but the kicks were merciless. Soon, the man’s face was a mess of crimson. Broken teeth, spat from his mouth, rolled across the clean carpet.

Jina watched the raw violence, trembling. This was the man who had attacked her, the one who tried to forcibly inject her with drugs. Yet, watching him, who had seemed so utterly helpless moments ago, being defeated with such brutal finality, she felt no satisfaction, only fear. Jina was mesmerized by the unfolding savagery.

“Ian! What are you doing! My God, that’s Jeremy? What are you doing there! Stop him!” Another man appeared and lunged at Ian, who was relentlessly kicking, trying to pull him away.

The hotel staff from the 14th floor, who had been invisible when Jina screamed, finally rushed over and separated Ian and the man named Jeremy.

Ian brushed off the staff members holding him and straightened his coat. He looked much the same as when he had first entered. In a suit and coat. Perfectly dressed, he was so neat that, were it not for the spatters of blood on his shirt, no one would have known what he had been doing moments before.

Watching Ian calmly adjust his sleeve, Jina finally understood why she felt a sense of dread toward the man who had just saved her. Ian had been ‘killing’ that man.

I can’t be dreaming right now.

Sitting on the edge of the plush bed, Jina looked around the room. It was large, luxurious, and immaculate.

Beyond the huge window, the Thames River and the London Eye were visible in a panoramic view—a room that had certainly featured on the hotel’s promotional website, a room she and Jessie had joked they could never afford.

Jina collapsed backward onto the bed. The soft duvet swallowed her tired body.

What happened?

Jina replayed the events: the staff rushing in, restraining Ian. She herself had been dragged out of the room. She remembered sobbing uncontrollably the moment her strength gave out from the sheer relief of being alive.

The staff had brought her here. Fearing they would do the same thing as on the 14th floor, she’d tried to push them away and scream, but the general manager, whom she had never once seen during her shifts, came and begged her, almost to the point of kneeling.

He promised the hotel would take full responsibility, cover all medical expenses, and pay generous compensation, pleading with her not to report them or contact the media. Yet, he subtly slipped in the veiled threat that reporting it wouldn’t make much difference anyway.

Humiliatingly, Jina put down the room phone she had been gripping at his words.

Had she judged there to be room for negotiation?

The manager stated the price for silence: £10,000. It was an ambiguous amount. Not small, but if someone asked if she would endure such an experience for £10,000, she would have refused.

As Jina bit her lip, the manager hastily increased the offer. Ultimately, the night’s events were settled for £30,000.

“Use this room comfortably. We’ll cover all your medical expenses, so don’t worry. I’ll contact you again in the morning.” Once the negotiation was over, the manager dropped his obsequious demeanor and adopted an expression as if he were bestowing a favor.

Jina didn’t find his attitude particularly revolting. She found herself more disgusting for selling her own dignity for thirty thousand pounds.

After the manager left, another staff member brought in Jina’s belongings from the kitchen. She claimed to have a nursing license and offered to tend to Jina’s injuries before she went to the hospital. The middle-aged woman checked the wound on the back of Jina’s head and clicked her tongue.

“It’s not severe, but it bled quite a bit. I’ve disinfected it, so it might feel uncomfortable, but don’t wash your hair. Go straight to the hospital when it’s light. It’s a very good place, and they’ll do everything immediately; you don’t need an appointment.”

The staff member’s demeanor as she explained the hospital sounded very practiced.

“Do these things happen often?”

“Not too often. And… we don’t usually take care of hotel staff like this.”

At that answer, Jina understood. The woman was likely hired to provide first aid if anything happened to a party guest. Or perhaps to ensure the women called in separately didn’t die here.

The nurse examined Jina quite thoroughly before leaving. Her claim of having a license wasn’t false; the bandage was firm and well-secured, and the minor abrasions on her arms had been quickly disinfected.

As soon as the staff member left, Jina immediately locked the door. This hotel, even in this era, insisted on using old-fashioned locking mechanisms. After turning the lock and engaging the bolt from the inside, she finally let out a long sigh of relief.

Now I’m safe. And that brought her to the present.

She considered falling asleep, but then she noticed her soiled clothes.

From throwing food at Jeremy and rolling on the floor, her uniform was stained with sticky sauce and wine. Moreover, the smell of stale food from working all day, mixed with the sharp scent of sweat from struggling to survive, was suffocating.

Thinking she was the dirtiest thing in this room, Jina entered the bathroom.

The bathroom, like the rest of the suite—the very one they had joked with Jessie they couldn’t afford—was so luxurious it felt sacrilegious to use.

“Let’s wash up first…”

It was difficult to wash without getting water on her bandaged head or her other wounds. Holding her arm up, she washed only below her neck, then gave up on putting her clothes back on. It seemed impossible to sleep in them. She sprayed her clothes heavily with deodorant, hung them up, and then put on a bathrobe before getting into bed.

A pleasant heaviness and softness enveloped her body. As comfort settled into her freshly washed, warm body, her stalled thoughts finally began to resume.

An immediate question arose in her mind: Why did Ian Aylesford help me?

It wasn’t hard to guess how he had been there. He was likely a guest invited to the decadent party. She couldn’t understand why he would kick Jeremy, who was clearly his acquaintance, and save her. If only she could have spoken with him for a moment, she would have asked.

Maybe he didn’t save me.

Jina recalled Ian, who had wielded raw violence without hesitation. He had shown no hesitation in ‘killing’ Jeremy. When the staff held Ian back, he had muttered, as if unable to contain his rage.

‘How dare he. That thing.’ He had definitely said that.

She was sure that ‘thing’ he spoke of was not her.

“I was lucky.” Whatever the reason, Jeremy had wronged him, and Ian had simply used him as a vent for his anger.

In the process, she had accidentally benefited. Fortunately, because she had been saved, the general manager must have mistaken Ian’s intentions, believing he was trying to save her. That must be why he offered such a luxurious room, along with medical expenses and hush money.

Should I be grateful for this or not?

The man who had put her in such a huge debt had become her savior in this situation.

What a ridiculous situation, she thought, burying her face in her knees.

Jina glanced at the clock. It was just past three-thirty. Morning was still a long way off. She had gone through so much and was injured, so she expected to fall asleep early from exhaustion, but the more she recalled the recent events, the more her body trembled with tension.

Jina rummaged through her bag, which the staff member had brought, next to the bed. Her mobile phone soon came into her hand. Anxious, she wanted to talk to someone, anyone, to ease her mind. But…

“……” Who could she call at this hour? And what could she say? That she had been assaulted and agreed to be silenced for money?

After looking at her contact list for a long time, Jina sighed and put down her mobile phone. Then, she went to the minibar and picked up the miniature bottles of alcohol placed there.

She didn’t like them and wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she felt she needed their help now.

Without even pouring it into a glass, she gulped down a whiskey she recognized, the liquor burning her lips and throat. She felt a stinging sensation.

Jina opened the other bottles and drank them all. The intoxication rose quickly. She put the empty bottles in the trash can and returned to the bed, burrowing under the covers.

Borrowing the strength of alcohol had been the right choice. As her mind grew hazy, her tension eased, and sleep soon began to claim her. Reaching out, she saw the name on a contact she hadn’t been able to bring herself to press, her vision blurring.

[Korean Woman]

Closing her eyes, Jina murmured. “……Mom.”

Feeling her eyes well up, Jina quickly shut them.

Jina’s sobbing soon subsided, and her breathing became regular. As the occupant fell into a deep sleep, the room settled into silence. It was a space where only the sleeper’s breaths should be heard until morning.

Click.

But outside, the bolt, which could not be opened from the exterior, slowly moved. As if an invisible hand were pulling it. No one stood there, but the bolt retracted fully. Then, another lock turned with a click.

The door slowly opened, and the person outside entered with unhesitating steps, as if it were their own room. The intruder paused, looking at their reflection in the window.

“Ian Aylesford.”

He spoke his name as if calling someone else, then tilted his head slightly, as if confirming his own identity. Then, his gaze shifted to the bed. There, Jina lay hidden, covered by the duvet up to her head.

He showed no surprise. With a calm demeanor, he waved a hand toward the open door. The door slowly closed. With a click, the room was once again cut off from the outside world.

He slowly inhaled. He could smell everything in the room: the scent of dust from the plush carpet, the faint animal smell within the luxurious bedding, the damp scent of the bathroom, an unknown floral masquerading as perfume, the smell of whiskey lingering in the empty bottles in the trash. And…

“Ha……” As if he could no longer bear it, he approached the bed like a person possessed. Then, without hesitation, he climbed onto it and pulled down the duvet Jina was covered with.

“Ugh…” As the duvet was pulled down, Jina’s curled-up eyelids fluttered. The moment she tried to open her eyes, he covered them with his hand.

“––—” A language not of humans escaped his lips. It was an ancient, raw sound, a strange resonance like a beast’s cry.

Jina, beneath his body, trembled and stiffened. Her breath hitched, and her arms flailed on the bed as if in pain. But soon, all her strength drained away, and she went limp.

As Jina’s breathing grew shallow, he removed his hand. Then, with his fingers, he brushed aside Jina’s disheveled hair. Looking at her face, where the redness from Jeremy’s blows had not yet faded, he spoke.

“Jina Troll.”

If his voice had a color, the color when he uttered Jina’s name moments ago would have been an infinitely deep black. Perfect darkness, devoid of any light.

“When shall I kill you.”

He murmured, his body trembling. It was a movement of intense excitement and pleasure.

Troll. The name of those who inherited that house. They all deserved to be torn apart and killed. Just as they had buried him deep underground, he intended to tear apart all the Trolls and cast them into darkness.

How should he kill this one? How. How. How…

Should he tear her throat? Then blood would gush like a fountain. How delightful that would be. He shivered with ecstasy at the thought of licking the sprayed blood. But he soon shook his head.

“No.”

It was a pleasing method, but the pleasure would be too short. He thought of other methods he knew.

Should he eat her fingers one by one?

She would howl and writhe with each one. After the fingers, there were the toes. Humans were so good because they had many parts to eat. After eating them all, then her arms, her legs, and next, her neck.

A bright smile spread across his face. Yes, that was it. That method would be good.

Then, he smelled a sweet scent. He immediately lowered his body and buried his nose where the scent originated. His sharply cut nose brushed against Jina’s neck. The action, at first glance, seemed like that of someone caressing a beloved.

Like a beast checking its prey, he touched Jina’s body in various places, sniffing. He realized where what he was looking for was and turned Jina’s body, which was lying down.

There was the knot of the bandage the hotel staff had tied securely. His thick-knuckled fingers fumbled to untie the bandage.

There was the smell of food, sweat, faint disinfectant, and blood that was beginning to congeal. Even with the best intentions, it was not a pleasant smell, yet he pressed his face into Jina’s hair with an expression of ecstasy.

“Ha, ah…”

With a satisfied groan, he inhaled the scent that captivated him. Ah, this was it. The smell of blood that had seized him so powerfully, incomparable to any paltry steak.

Like a madman, he clutched Jina’s head and extended his tongue, licking the wound. The wound, which had been healing, was scraped open again, causing crimson droplets to seep out. His tongue, as red as the blood, licked every inch of the wound.

“Ah, ugh, sss…” With each lick, Jina, who was limp, moaned and flinched. Despite her pathetic whimpers, he paid no mind, as if the sounds only whetted his appetite, and licked the wound greedily, again and again.

When he finally lifted his head after burying his face there for a long time, his lips were faintly stained with the red liquid he hadn’t quite licked away. Conversely, Jina’s limp face had turned deathly pale. He paid no mind and began to lick another spot.

His tongue, which had been licking her neck, moved downward.

“Aaahh…” As if disliking the sensation, Jina’s arm moved to push him away. But her strength was so weak that her hand merely brushed against his perfectly neat clothes as it slid down.

“How dare you.” He wore an expression of extreme displeasure.

It was an ancient, pure power. A power that made everything obey him. Yet, even weakened as she was, a mere human dared to defy his will and make an unauthorized movement.

Grrrrr.

A menacing growl, not of a human, emanated from his throat. His beautiful blue eyes narrowed, filled with ferocity.

At the sound that stirred primal fear, Jina’s hand, which had been flailing in the air, fell back down.

Nevertheless, the ferocity in Ian’s eyes did not easily subside.

“To think you’re a ‘Troll,’ of all things.”

He had learned everything about Jina Troll.

Before he could even give an order, the human he called grandfather had his subordinates find out about this woman. Thanks to that, he didn’t need to unnecessarily eat someone’s head; he could learn most things about Jina Troll.

Troll.

Those cursed beings who had imprisoned him. He remembered the scent of their blood distinctly.

The last blood he had consumed before being trapped deep underground was that of a Troll.

They had lured him into the depths by offering one of their own as a sacrifice. While he was engrossed in tearing into that sweet thing, he had been trapped there.

For a long time, he had dwelled in the darkness, replaying the memory of the last human blood. So, when he smelled the faint scent of blood on the plate, he had been so overjoyed that he almost chewed and swallowed everything nearby. But if he had done that, this delicious thing would have realized who he was and fled.

Unlike when he was trapped, there were now too many Humans in the world. It was a world where everything could be done and known with a single finger.

Therefore, he must not move carelessly until he understood these things perfectly. If he moved rashly, he might be trapped in the darkness again.

The long, deep darkness had taught him patience. Thanks to it, he was able to refrain from tearing into Jina Troll before him at the party.

The materials brought by the Human called grandfather stated that Jina Troll was a hybrid, with a Human from a distant land. It was a lineage his mother had never tasted before.

Perhaps that was why. The unfamiliar taste of that mixed blood piqued his interest.

“Haa……” He licked the arm with the wound. After pressing and licking it several times, the nauseating smell of disinfectant soon disappeared, and blood began to drip from it again.

Slurp. Lick.

Sounds of hurried sucking came from between his lips as he licked his arm.

How many Humans had he seen since escaping the darkness? How many Humans had he eaten?

He didn’t know because he hadn’t counted, but what was certain was that he had never tasted blood this delicious.

“Delicious.”

He couldn’t hide his satisfaction, looking flustered like a child eating sweets for the first time.

His body, pressing down on Jina’s as if to engulf her, convulsed. He licked and licked, as if to insert his tongue between the wound.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lifted Jina’s hand and swallowed her thumb whole. Then, he wrapped his tongue around her finger, licking it as a child would suck their own.

Having washed, the only things left on his body were water, soap, and the faint scent of whiskey. He didn’t like that. It reminded him of when she struggled beneath another Human male.

What a wonderful smell it had been then, when she shed sweat and tears in terror. Things that sensed their own death and thrashed always smelled delicious.

He laid Jina down flat. As he clung to her, the bath robe she was wearing had fallen halfway off, its front wide open and her white chest was completely exposed under the soft light, shamelessly.

Gulp.

He swallowed and reached for her chest. His large hand grasped a heavy softness.

He lifted and kneaded her breast, as if savoring its weight. A smile spread across his face again.

“Looks delicious.”

Such a large piece of flesh, without bones.

As if it was a shame to feel it with only one hand, he pulled the bath robe completely down and cupped her slightly spread breasts with both hands.

He lifted them, then idly circled them with his hands. Then, he squeezed them hard as if to burst them. During this time, the tips of her breasts began to protrude. As he felt something at the soft, blunt ends, he playfully grasped them with his fingers.

Like a beast’s fur bristling when it senses danger, this too seemed to awaken at his presence.

The more he touched it, the harder it became, and it seemed amusing, so he continued to toy with it with his hands. Then, he grasped both tips and lifted them.

“Ugh!” Even though she was unconscious, she seemed to register the stimulation, letting out a muffled groan and flinching. He removed his hands. Her flushed face exhaled a heated breath.

He listened to the breath as if it were beautiful music, then pulled again, as if lifting her nipples. Her large breasts rose and fell repeatedly with the movement of his hands.

“Ah, hng……”

Each time, Jina’s struggles grew louder. Ian, as if observing, remembered every expression and sound, moving his hands without rest. Her white breasts were soon covered in red marks.

With a groan, Jina’s breathing grew hotter.

“This is fun.” After uttering those words, he muttered. “Fun. Fun. It’s fun…… So this is it.”

When he first swallowed this body, he was bewildered. It was a body filled with unfamiliar emotions and memories.

When he broke the hand of a son of a small company who wouldn’t listen to him with his foot, when he shoved money into the breasts of a woman who pressed herself against him at a club, when the less fortunate clasped their hands and bowed their heads to get something from him.

The former owner of this body felt pleasure and he found it difficult to understand.

Pleasure was a kind of excitement, addictive, making the body’s owner want to remain in that situation. But in the memories he had swallowed, none of them made him want to try them.

However, for the first time, he found something he wanted to do more of.

He lowered his head and buried his face between her breasts. The sweet scent that had been stimulating his senses emanated from there.

He clung to it, rubbing his face deeper into it. The more he did, the stronger the good scent became.

He shifted his gaze and saw the flesh he had been kneading moments before. He moved his hand, gathering Jina’s breasts towards the center.

With a pleasant pressure, he buried his face completely between her breasts.

“Good.”

He muttered, continuing to rub his face against Jina’s breasts without detaching himself.

Then, he felt a pulling sensation below his abdomen. Hunger washed over him. There was no reason to hesitate, so he opened his mouth wide and took the delicious-looking thing before him into his mouth.

The soft breast filled his greedy mouth. But realizing that even with his mouth wide open, he couldn’t swallow it all with this body, he became even more satisfied and set his teeth.

As he gnawed on the soft breast, the body beneath him trembled.

“Ah, ugh!”

As if telling him to stop, Jina shook her head and struggled. Because of that, the breast he was biting came out of his mouth.

He scowled and chased after what had escaped him, biting down hard again. But as the thing in his mouth escaped again, irritation rose on his face.

He lifted his head and bit down hard on one breast. Then, as if not wanting to let go this time, he sucked on it forcefully.

At the same time, his tongue moved greedily, smearing saliva over every part in his mouth. When he pressed his tongue against the protruding tip, her body trembled even more.

He decided to enjoy the resistance of what he was biting. It couldn’t escape anyway. He scraped the bumpy areola with his teeth, and his pointed tongue pressed down on the now harder nipple, as if trying to push it back in. Then he repeated the sucking.

“Ah, ng! Ugh!”

As the groans flowed, the scent grew stronger. A scent that contained freshness, making him even more thirsty. Such a good scent…

‘That guy.’

Suddenly, he remembered the Human male he had kicked away.

A man named Jeremy.

If he recalled the memories he had swallowed, Jeremy was quite close to the former owner of this body. But to him, that guy was now nothing more than rotten meat.

That guy smelled terrible, a smell he had never encountered before. Not only that, but the smell was everywhere in the rooms on the 14th floor.

It was even on the woman lying on the bed in his room with her tongue hanging out. The source of the smell was a syringe. That’s why he was genuinely enraged when Jeremy tried to inject Jina.

She was a woman he would kill and eat. Yet he tried to taint her with such a disgusting smell.

So he kicked it away.

In the past, his head would have been torn off in one go, but the Human body was too weak, and it ended with blood splattering. At least he prevented his meat from being defiled.

That was satisfying enough.

He bit and sucked Jina’s breasts for a long time. By then, he was holding Jina completely in his arms. Without tiring, as he continued to suck her breasts,her trembling knees pressed firmly between his legs.

“……!”

A jolt of sensation surged through him, and he pulled his mouth away, looking down at himself pressed against Jina. The center of his pants, made of thick, high-quality wool, bulged upwards. He reached out and touched his changed body. Beneath the fabric, he felt a heavy pillar of flesh.

It was a Human excretion organ. He only swallowed, never expelling, so it was something he didn’t have, and thus still unfamiliar.

Normally flaccid, it was now hard and swollen.

‘Why?’ Why was it reacting like this? And that sensation just now… He looked at Jina’s knees, which had been touching him moments ago, and pressed his swollen part against them.

“……!”

A dizzying sensation flowed through his body. His eyes widened at the tingling feeling.

He recognized a similar sensation: an intense pleasure mixed with the exhilaration felt when swallowing something rare and delicious. It bloomed from below.

He brought Jina’s knees together and, instinctively, wedged his part between them and rubbed.

“Ah……”

Stimulated, it grew even larger. While the fragrance of the meat he was sucking was good, this was also a strong stimulation, perhaps even more so.

After rubbing his lower body against Jina’s knees for a long time, he realized something was missing.

Something more… useful…

Then he saw Jina’s hand on the sheet. He grabbed her hand and made her grasp his part over his pants.

“Ugh……” As her slender fingers gently enveloped his part, the muscles in his back twitched, and his lower abdomen tightened.

At the same time, the pillar twitched violently. He hastily grabbed Jina’s other hand and brought it to his lower body, rubbing. As her small, scarred hands rubbed over his pants, his part rose with even more ferocity.

He continued the act in a trance. Then, at a moment when his breath grew ragged.

“Aaah!” With a feeling of something exiting, all the muscles in his body tensed. A moment later, he realized his lower body was wet.

He let go of Jina’s hand and pulled down his pants. Lowering his damp drawers, he saw a thick, viscous substance smeared all over them.

He frowned, thought for a moment, then took Jina’s hand again and made her grasp his now sticky part.

“Ah……” An electrifying sensation, incomparable to rubbing through the fabric, washed over him.

“Let’s do more.” He muttered, placing his part in Jina’s hands and moving his hips without hesitation.

The pillar, which had momentarily lost its strength, soon stood erect again. And it began to spew out fluid bit by bit. His hands, which smelled of soap, were now stained with white semen, making squelching sounds.

After moving for a long time, he felt the urge to ejaculate and, holding Jina’s hands, made her grip his part tighter.

Splat, splat.

With vulgar sounds, milky fluid splattered all over Jina’s exposed breasts and abdomen.

“Ah……” He trembled, exhaling a languid breath.

‘I can’t help it.’

He wanted to bite and eat this thing, asleep, covered in his own mess. It would take a long time. If he ate it piece by piece, this room would be filled with blood. Perhaps Humans would realize that something they should fear had entered this body.

‘But…….’

He couldn’t stand it without swallowing this thing that stimulated him so much.

He brought his face close to Jina’s. If the pain exceeded the limits of control, she would wake up and scream. Then, perhaps he would eat her tongue first, then bite her neck.

The moment he set his teeth, contemplating where to start.

Jina’s eyelids fluttered, and tears welled up. They soon formed droplets and flowed down her cheeks. He unconsciously licked them away with his lips.

As his lips brushed her eyes and cheeks, Jina murmured.

“Mom……” Then she reached out and hugged his neck.

“……” He froze. Everything that had dealt with him until now had been filled with terror. Even if he conTrolld their consciousness, their fear of him didn’t change. That’s why, from the moment his power of control began to weaken, they had thrashed even in their subconscious to get away from him.

But she hugged him.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at her face.

“Mom?”

It seemed to be a foreign word mixed with Troll’s blood. He didn’t know the word, but he guessed its meaning. It was probably a word calling for her mother.

Many Humans called for their mothers at the moment of their death. He wondered if this was one of those times, and though a sneer threatened to surface, he couldn’t set his teeth, simply watching Jina, who was shedding tears.

Slurp.

Before the tears could fall, he quickly licked them away. This tasted different from blood. Unlike blood, tears flowed continuously without him needing to force them out. So he licked Jina’s cheeks without rest.

After crying for a long time, she quieted down. Watching her, he stood up and pulled up his pants. Then he grabbed Jina’s bath robe and put it on her, just as he had seen it when he first saw her, and covered her with the blanket.

His gaze swept over Jina. His red tongue flicked out, licking her lips several times.

This was delicious. And it was fun.

It was too precious to swallow immediately. Wouldn’t it be alright to keep her alive a little longer and taste everything she shed, then eat her? He could also experience more of this ‘fun’ in the meantime.

Among the Humans he had encountered since emerging from the darkness, this was the only one who simultaneously evoked his hatred and his interest.

Standing by the bed, he lowered his head to face Jina’s.

“Jina Troll.” His lips touched Jina’s forehead. “It was delicious.”

Mimicking the greetings Humans exchanged in the memories he had swallowed, he turned around. He left, and the door slowly closed.

.

.

With a click, the lock, which Jina had engaged from the inside to prevent anyone from entering, was secured. As if no one had ever entered this room, it remained exactly as it was.

“Ugh……” Jina let out a shallow groan and regained consciousness.

In her dream, someone had entered the room where she was sleeping. The intruder had climbed on top of her and whispered incomprehensible words.

From then on, her consciousness had completely fallen into darkness. It felt like swimming in ink.

She was in darkness, not knowing where was up or down, or where to go, and her body gradually lost strength.

Just as she thought she was going to die, she unconsciously called for her mother.

“Ah, damn……” Jina buried her face in her hands. It had been a long time since she had a dream that made her feel this dog-like after waking up.

After closing her eyes for a while, Jina lowered her hands. Bright light was pouring into the room.

It was rare, bright sunlight for winter in London. Blinking a few times, she remembered that the room she lived in was a corner room that didn’t get morning sunlight, and she sat bolt upright.

“Oof!” At the same time, a strong headache and sharp pain throughout her body struck her. Overwhelmed by the pain, Jina clutched her head, groaning.

‘Where is this? Why am I……’

“Ah.” Then, memories surfaced, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Unrealistic scenes flashed through her mind. The 14th floor, the chaotic scenes. The man who attacked her. The syringe. And Ian Aylesford.

“It wasn’t… a dream, was it?” It had to be. If all of that had been a dream, she wouldn’t be in this nice room right now. Jina touched her throbbing head.

“Huh?” The bandage the staff had tied for her yesterday was nowhere to be found; only her hair was there. Looking around, she saw the bandage lying carelessly next to the pillow.

“What the? Why did it come undone?” She had tied it tightly. But why was it so messy and lying beside her, as if someone had untied it?

“Did it come undone in my sleep…?” But she had never been a restless sleeper before. Then, recalling the dream from last night, she thought it might be possible.

As she tried to touch the back of her head, Jina felt aches in her arms, back, and waist. All of them were places Jeremy had kicked yesterday.

“Bastard.” As she groaned and tried to check her injuries, Jina frowned.

“What’s that smell?” A strange smell emanated from her body. From her cheeks, her arms, and… Jina hastily took off her bath robe.

Strangely, her breasts were swollen and red. Her nipples, which usually didn’t show themselves, were greatly protruding and swollen. As she touched them, wondering why.

“Hng!”

A sharp sting spread from the tips of her breasts throughout her body. The sting was so intense that she paused for a moment, examining her body in confusion.

Her chest was marred by red welts. It looked as if something—or someone—had been sucking her skin all night. The strange, singular scent was strongest here, emanating from the angry flesh.

Could someone have come in?

A tremor of sheer dread ran through her. She sprang from the bed and stumbled toward the door. The lock was exactly as she had set it—turned and bolted from the inside.

“Hoo…” A shaky sigh escaped her. The trauma of the prior night was a cold, clinging residue, twisting every doubt into panic.

But even after confirming the door was secure, the strange smell remained, emanating from her.

Did I do something else after getting drunk?

Yet, there was nothing in this room that would produce such a scent. It wasn’t merely foul; it was a complex, unique fragrance—a miasma that was simultaneously repellent and strangely compelling.

It was the smell of deep earth and the humid, subterranean gloom one might find by burying their nose in the moss of a deep cave.

Setting the smell aside, she pondered the red marks, glancing at the whiskey bottles discarded in the trash can.

“Is it because I drank something I don’t usually drink…?” She wondered if that’s why she had developed a rash.

Jina, tilting her head, immediately went into the bathroom to wash herself. Fortunately, the marks didn’t seem to be spreading, so she figured they would fade once she sobered up.

As she finished washing, carefully avoiding getting water on her wounds as she had yesterday, the room’s telephone began to ring.

“Yes, this is Jina Troll.”

📱“You’re awake.” The voice was the General Manager’s. “As we promised yesterday, I’ve made a hospital appointment for you. The address is…”

Jina quickly jotted down the details. The General Manager then informed her the promised money would be paid in three installments. Before he could hang up, Jina asked urgently.

“My shift today….”

📱“Your contract has been processed as terminated effective yesterday.”

“Please don’t forget the seasonal bonus.”

📱“…Of course.” His hesitation was palpable.

He thinks I’m a mercenary bitch, Jina thought, the cynicism a familiar shield. But what choice did she have? Now that things had come to this, she would extract every single pound available.

Jina ordered new clothes using an app. Adding an extra fee, a message popped up stating they would be delivered to the hotel within an hour.

It’s a wonderful world when you have money, she thought, sweeping all the remaining miniature liquor bottles into her bag. This was all money, too.

An hour later, Jina, now dressed in new clothes, came down to the lobby.

The General Manager was waiting. He offered a curt nod, no greeting given or expected. Beside him stood the very employee who had been guarding the elevator on the 14th floor.

Jina swept a glance of cold disgust over them—men who stood there as if last night had been an illusion—and walked straight out.

As she exited through the door connecting to the Thames riverside path, a cold wind struck her cheek. Normally, she would have shivered and complained, but today the wind felt incredibly refreshing.

Forgetting the chill, she sat on a bench when a person walking a large dog passed by. Out of habit, Jina smiled at the animal.

The dog, which had been trotting confidently, suddenly stopped dead, sniffed the air near her, and then tucked its tail tight, whining as it scrambled to hide behind its owner’s legs. “Oh my, he’s not usually like this.” The owner, flustered by the dog’s reaction, quickly retreated. Jina stood there, awkward.

Then, another dog walked by. The moment its eyes met hers, it reacted even more violently, letting out a harrowing shriek and frantically trying to bolt. Its owner lost the leash, and the dog darted away.

Watching the owner frantically chase the dog, Jina grew puzzled. Then, she suddenly remembered the smell she had noticed when she woke up that morning.

“It doesn’t seem to be there anymore.”

After washing for a long time this morning, she could only smell the hotel’s body products on herself, but was it different for dogs?

As she brought her arm up to her nose, sniffing, her mobile phone began to ring from inside her bag. Looking at the screen, an unfamiliar number appeared. This time, however, it had a London area code.

Is it the hospital?

The general manager had said the hospital would contact her sometime in the morning to make an appointment.

Jina answered the call with a light heart.

“Yes, this is Jina Troll….”

“Miss Jina Troll?” A dry, sharp voice came from the other end. “This is Inspector Haywood from the London Metropolitan Police. I’m calling because there’s something I need to confirm.”