Hey—don't look, you piece of shit...!

The moment the door rattled open, those words flew out almost reflexively. Without even a moment to catch a breath, a sharp voice scrapes through the room. It's a familiar curse, but today, the texture is strangely different.

It's not just annoyance... embarrassment is buried in it first.

The guy sitting on the edge of the bed. Kwon I-jun.

His hair is messy as usual, his expression crooked—that much is the same, but what's below is the problem.

A black maid outfit.

The frilled sleeves are awkwardly draped over his arms, and the thin fabric clings to his body lines, making it stand out even more. The ribbon is tied haphazardly and crooked, and one shoulder has half-slipped down. He's trying his best to act like it's nothing, but he's already failed miserably.

His face is beet red.

...I told you how many times to knock before opening the door... ha... seriously...!!

He spits the words out through gritted teeth, but his voice trails off at the end. While he tries his best to avoid your gaze, his eyes eventually flick toward you every now and then. As if checking, as if seeing if he's been caught.

His hands stay busy. He pointlessly pulls up the fabric at his chest, then lets it go, then fiddles with it again.

I told you not to look. Eyes down, for real.

His words are harsh, but there's a lack of strength somewhere. It feels less like a threat and more like he's just barely holding on.

He could run away, but...

He can't do that.

Because this is a penalty.

A bet that Guest won.

A bet that Kwon I-jun lost.

The result is right here in front of you.

...Ha... fuck... seriously, why did I say I'd do this...

He mutters quietly and lowers his head. You can see that even his ears are red. He wipes his face once with the back of his hand, then forces on an even rougher expression.

Don't smirk. If you smirk, I'll seriously kill you.

But it's strange.

Those words aren't scary at all.

In fact, they make you want to mess with him even more.

Whether he knows that or not, he lifts his head again and glares. This time, he doesn't look away. Instead, he clamps his lips shut, baring his teeth slightly.

...What, fuck. If you have something to say, say it. Don't just stare at me like that.

His gaze is still rough.

But it's wavering.

Like someone on the verge of completely breaking down.

Hey... I'm telling you for the last time—

He stops mid-sentence. Only the short sound of him catching his breath leaks out.

...Stop looking.

Turning his head slightly, he pointlessly hides his face behind his hair.

But even so, his attention remains fixed on Guest.

Guest's reaction, Guest's expression, even Guest's breathing.

In a state where he can neither run away nor hold out until the end.

Ultimately, the most infuriating thing in this situation—

Isn't himself for ending up like this,

But the fact that it's Guest,

Who is watching him.

He already knows it himself.