Jiwon pretended to resist with all his might, then deliberately let his body go limp, making it seem as if he had passed out.

Son Geonwoo and the others lifted him and carried him into a room, laying him down on the bed.

“Dumbass, I told you to go easy. He’s not actually dead, right?”

Son Geonwoo anxiously pulled the towel off Jiwon’s face.

“Nah, idiot. He’s breathing.”

It was Number 11, Kang Jooyoung’s voice.

No wonder it had felt like someone towering over him—the guy was nearly 195 centimeters tall.

Huh?

But Number 11 had been talking to Kim Yunho earlier. Did I see that wrong?

“He’s really breathing?”

“I said he is, idiot. You think this is my first time doing this?”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Soon, it creaked open, and someone else walked in.

“Ooooh. Kang Jooyoung, not bad.”

It was Number 9’s voice.

Three of them.

Perfect. Totally caught.

But how the hell did they know I was gonna follow Number 9?

“Isn’t that bastard Yunho such a blabbermouth? He’ll say anything just to suck Jooyoung’s dick.”

Son Geonwoo sneered.

There was even the sound of them high-fiving, like they were so proud of themselves.

Ha. Fucking hell. Kim Yunho, that little shit.

Jiwon groaned inwardly.

Yunho must’ve spilled everything trying to get on Number 11’s good side.

Since Kang Jooyoung was close with Son Geonwoo, of course it got passed along, and either one of them must’ve told Number 9.

But wait, were Number 9 and Son Geonwoo even friends?

Definitely not.

Jiwon had never seen them even exchange words before.

Which meant Kang Jooyoung told Number 9 directly.

Number 11 and Number 9, huh.

No wonder they gave off such a bad vibe.

Figures it’s scumbags like them.

So this is what a detective’s intuition feels like, Jiwon thought bitterly.

Whatever the case, judging by the sounds of their conversation, they were in perfect sync with each other.

I was so damn happy thinking I’d get a chance to ID Number 9, and look at this mess.

But what’s done is done.

Regret and self-pity weren’t going to help.

Think, Jiwon. And if thinking doesn’t work, use your body.

He tried to come up with a way out, but nothing made sense. Taking on three guys, all bigger and taller than him, wasn’t going to be easy.

If it were just Son Geonwoo and Number 9, maybe, but Kang Jooyoung? That changed everything.

Just like Kang Jooyoung said earlier, if a guy that seasoned at this crap pinned him down with a towel again—especially if he was serious about it this time—Jiwon’s neck was going to snap for sure.

“You brought it, right?”

Kang Jooyoung asked.

“Of course.”

Answered Number 9.

“Anyone see you?”

That was Son Geonwoo.

“Nope.”

“How’d you get the cabinet open?”

“It was already unlocked.”

“Fucking hell. These /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ assholes tell us to fuck all we want, then flip their shit over Penalty Points.”

The three of them laughed.

Before their conversation even ended, a sharp ammonia stench hit Jiwon’s nose.

Cough, cough.

The smell was so overpowering, he couldn’t fake being unconscious anymore.

When Jiwon opened his eyes, all three were staring down at him.

“Awake?”

Son Geonwoo grinned brightly.

Creepy bastard.

Jiwon deliberately frowned, pretending to still be groggy.

“Ugh... Why...?”

He forced his voice out, pressing his throat like he could barely speak.

“Don’t remember? This.”

Kang Jooyoung waved the towel he’d used when he attacked earlier.

‘When you’re naked, there’s no weapon better than a towel. It’s always nearby, leaves no marks, doesn’t raise suspicion.’

Detective Kim Kyungseok’s training had been useful in more ways than one.

But when it’s not one attacker but three, the story changes.

I have to reduce their numbers somehow.

“...A towel? What about it...”

Jiwon let out a pained groan and closed his eyes again.

He went limp.

Cough, cough. He faked a cough, then stilled his breathing like he’d fainted again.

“Hey, hey, Kim Jiwon. Open your eyes, asshole.”

Son Geonwoo slapped his cheek. It stung enough that he couldn’t keep his eyes closed entirely.

Jiwon rolled his eyes back dramatically, opening and closing them like he was seizing.

His limbs shook like he was convulsing.

“What’s wrong with him? Shit. Is he really okay?”

Number 9’s voice wavered nervously.

“I told you to go easy, idiot. You’ve got no sense of limits.”

Son Geonwoo yelled at Number 11.

“Stop being a wuss. He’s alive, what are you worried about?”

Only Kang Jooyoung stayed relaxed.

“Must be fun, huh? You like fucking people who can’t even stay conscious?”

“Aw, you’re killing the mood.”

Son Geonwoo and Number 9 scolded him.

“That’s the thrill, idiot! When they come to mid-fuck, it’s the best. You guys don’t know shit.”

Kang Jooyoung defended himself.

At least now Jiwon understood Number 11’s sexual preferences—if that even counted as a preference.

“God, must be nice, you freak.”

Compared to them, Son Geonwoo was almost normal.

“Bastards. You begged for this, now you’re chickening out. Hey, asshole, not gonna open your eyes?”

Thud—Kang Jooyoung kicked Jiwon.

Because Jiwon was lying on the bed, Kang Jooyoung had lifted his leg high, but nearly lost his balance and stumbled backward. Sounded like he barely caught himself.

Son Geonwoo and Number 9 burst out laughing. Naturally, Kang Jooyoung snapped in response.

“Kim Eunhyuk, hit him with the ammonia again!”

So, Number 9’s name was Kim Eunhyuk.

Soon, a gauze soaked in ammonia pressed against Jiwon’s nose. Not just pressed—it was rubbed in harshly, like a joke.

Fuck. Jiwon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, coughing.

The ammonia was unbearable, like it was going to kill him.

“Hey, snap out of it!”

Number 9, Kim Eunhyuk, grabbed his arm and lifted it. The moment he let go, Jiwon’s arm dropped limply onto the bed.

“Shit, he’s totally out of it. What do we do?”

“How the hell is he supposed to suck anyone off like this?”

“Fucked.”

The three huddled together, discussing how to ‘use’ Jiwon properly.

Originally, they’d planned to put one cock in his mouth, another in his hand, and the last one would fuck him from behind. But seeing Jiwon couldn’t even lift a hand, they had to change the plan.

Let’s just fuck him.

All three at once?

Are you serious?

Why? Wasn’t that bastard a toilet?

Toilet? Who said that?

Han Seoho, that little shit.

Oh. Really? If he was a toilet, hell, even fists probably went in. Three dicks should be fine.

No, fuck off.

Oh? You actually like him?

Bastard.

As Son Geonwoo kept objecting, the other two started teasing him.

You really like him, huh? Even after seeing his junk? You’re more naive than you look.

“Don’t you know what ambition is?”

Son Geonwoo explained his interest in Jiwon with that line.

The others burst out laughing.

“Looking at it now, Geonwoo’s the biggest pervert here.”

Kang Jooyoung sneered.

“Since we’re on the topic, let’s take a good look at his dick.”

No sooner had Number 9 said it than his hand reached for Jiwon’s pants.

While pulling them down, a shoe got caught. Someone cursed and yanked it off, tossing it somewhere. The other shoe had already been removed.

In an instant, Jiwon’s pants and underwear were stripped away. His lower half was completely exposed.

Jiwon clenched his teeth.

“Wow, how’s this guy even alive carrying that thing around? I’d have killed myself.”

Kang Jooyoung mocked.

“Eh, it’s not that suicidal. Honestly, kinda cute after a while.”

Kim Eunhyuk squeezed Jiwon’s crotch playfully.

Kang Jooyoung chuckled, “Fucking pervert.”

Son Geonwoo stayed silent.

“Get out.”

Son Geonwoo muttered quietly to the two who kept cracking crude jokes and teasing Jiwon.

“What?”

“I said get the fuck out, assholes.”

Son Geonwoo barked louder.

“What’s his deal, getting all serious now?”

“I’m going first, so get out!”

Son Geonwoo shouted.

They started arguing.

“Once I’m done, do whatever the fuck you want with him.”

“Let’s just go together. It’ll be more fun.”

“Get the fuck out!!”

Son Geonwoo roared again.

“You don’t even know your own strength, idiot.”

He blamed Kang Jooyoung for pushing Jiwon to unconsciousness.

“Fucking bastard. Hey, what’s wrong with you? Your meds wearing off?”

“How long are we gonna fight? We’ve got less than twenty minutes left, dumbasses.”

Number 9 interrupted, frustrated they were wasting time when they only had twenty minutes to rape Jiwon.

Looked like this was going to fall apart—but no, they were too tight-knit for that.

“I’m going first. I’ll finish in ten minutes. You two can rip him apart however you want for the rest. Deal?”

Son Geonwoo laid it out.

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

Despite their words, neither made a move to leave. Clearly planning to watch.

“What the hell. Get out, assholes.”

“Ugh, why’s he being like this?”

Turns out Son Geonwoo was either shy or not as much of a degenerate as the other two.

A stroke of luck for Jiwon.

“Such a damn prude.”

“Wow, what a saint.”

Calling him a saint in this situation made Jiwon seriously question Number 9’s intelligence.

“You wanted a group thing earlier, now you want him all to yourself. Shouldn’t have even helped.”

Kang Jooyoung grumbled all the way to the door.

Didn’t matter—Son Geonwoo stayed firm.

Thanks to that, Jiwon had a chance to escape this mess.

Jiwon squinted at Son Geonwoo’s clothes.

Unfortunately, his belt was fixed to the pants, hard to use, but the police uniform’s collar—grabbable.

Attacking the groin would be easy. Even with his aching right hand, he had enough strength to twist a weak spot.

Time to show off all those survival techniques drilled into him during training.

Left hand on the collar, right hand grabbing the groin, twist hard.

The door shut.

Son Geonwoo wasn’t standing over him yet—he was farther away near the bed.

Jiwon exhaled deeply.

“Fuck... What now?”

What do you mean, dumbass? Hurry up and come at me.

As if hearing his thoughts, Son Geonwoo approached.

But unexpectedly, he covered Jiwon’s exposed lower body with a blanket.

Then sat at the foot of the bed, running a hand through his short hair.

A nervous habit.

Son Geonwoo looked conflicted.

Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Jiwon frowned in confusion.

Son Geonwoo sat there for a moment, then seemed to shake off his hesitation.

He threw off the blanket, got on all fours over the bed, crawling until he caged Jiwon’s body beneath him.

Their faces were nearly touching.

“Hyung... This isn’t what I meant to do. Sorry. But now that it’s come to this, I’ll fill the twenty minutes. I won’t let those bastards lay a hand on you.”

Should I be grateful? Damn.

Guess Park Geonwoo wasn’t completely blind when it came to reading people.

Even with his mood swings, Son Geonwoo was still better than Kang Jooyoung or Kim Eunhyuk.

But that didn’t change the situation.

Son Geonwoo still planned to fuck him, just his own ‘nice’ way out.

Slap, slap.

Son Geonwoo lightly slapped Jiwon’s cheek.

The sudden hit snapped Jiwon’s focus.

“Hey, you’re awake? You okay?”

Son Geonwoo smiled down at him.

Good-looking bastard.

Even in this mess, Jiwon couldn’t help but notice.

Honestly, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind fucking Son Geonwoo. If he’d been asked in private, a little forceful but one-on-one, maybe he’d have pretended to resist and gone along with it.

But not like this.

Want it or not, dragging someone here, half-unconscious, in a practically criminal setup—that alone made Son Geonwoo trash.

“Sorry. That asshole Jooyoung kept pushing it. I had no choice.”

An excuse.

“Might as well enjoy it. You wanted me too, didn’t you?”

Son Geonwoo’s hand went to his buttons, starting to undo his shirt.

Wanted you, my ass.

Jiwon mouthed silently.

“What?”

Son Geonwoo leaned in as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“...”

“What are you saying?”

He brought his ear right to Jiwon’s lips.

“You’re fucking dead, asshole.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Jiwon grabbed Son Geonwoo’s collar, his right hand twisting the bastard’s groin with every ounce of strength he had.

Son Geonwoo collapsed onto him without even managing a groan.

Jiwon shoved him off with a foot, then locked his leg around Son Geonwoo’s neck—the triangle choke.

Son Geonwoo struggled wildly but couldn’t escape.

Once a proper submission hold locked in, an ordinary person couldn’t overpower it, especially not against someone who’d practiced relentlessly.

Jiwon squeezed with everything he had.

Of course, Son Geonwoo didn’t go down easy. He was surprisingly strong compared to before. Must’ve picked up some jiu-jitsu techniques.

But he wasn’t skilled enough to break free under surprise.

After a while, Son Geonwoo passed out.

Only then did Jiwon release his legs.

His heart raced like it was about to explode. His limbs trembled from the adrenaline.

But no time to panic.

Jiwon stripped Son Geonwoo’s shirt, tossing it aside.

Now naked, he bounced on the bed, moaning lewdly, smacking his palm with his fist.

Rhythmically, slap slap—sometimes hard, sometimes soft.

He controlled the volume of his moans too.

If they were listening outside, it had to sound convincing—like rough, passionate sex.

Over five minutes of this, and his body was drenched in sweat.

His breathing hitched from exhaustion.

But he didn’t stop.

Like Son Geonwoo said, even if he used the whole twenty minutes, they couldn’t say shit.

Whose room was this again?

The thought hit him belatedly.

Jiwon turned his head, eyes darting toward the door.