Kim Jiwon. Twenty-eight. A youth who ended his painful life through suicide.
Jiwon had been planning his family’s revenge under the name of that youth.
While that boy was at the age to roam secret clubs and indulge in all sorts of filthy sex, Kim Jiwon was surviving on three hours of sleep a day, splitting his time between a logistics warehouse and grueling day labor. While he drank high-end wine like water in a luxury villa, Jiwon was staving off hunger with tap water. While he dined on fine cuisine at five-star restaurants, Jiwon ate near-expired triangle kimbap and low-grade meals from a gosiwon.
While he dropped tens of millions of won on designer suits in upscale boutiques, Kim Jiwon bought ten pieces of the cheapest clothing he could find online and rotated them until they wore out. He couldn’t even dream of buying a winter coat and instead picked one up from a relief center.
While he enjoyed endless, depraved sex and perverse games, Jiwon endured humiliation after humiliation to repay his brother’s debt, barely clinging to life.
And after holding on and holding on, the only thing left was suicide.
Now, under the name of that dead boy, Yoon Jiwon was carrying out a personal vendetta. Borrowing Kim Jiwon’s name to avenge someone who had lived a life the complete opposite of his.
When Detective Kim Kyungseok handed him Kim Jiwon’s profile, when he memorized the entire life story down to the details, Jiwon didn’t feel the slightest guilt. All he had in his heart was revenge, and the life he was borrowing didn’t matter.
Who in poverty only has one story?
How many people have had their lives ruined by their families?
Even if you’re desperate for money, who told you to become a drug mule?
Every time Jiwon found himself empathizing with criminals, he remembered what his father used to say—and this time, he drew the line. He’d intentionally had degrading thoughts just to avoid feeling sympathy for that boy.
But only when the awful memories returned did he finally look back on Kim Jiwon’s life.
And then he couldn’t lift his head, overwhelmed with guilt.
Would Kim Jiwon ever have imagined?
That his name would be used for something like this?
Even in death, Kim Jiwon had no peace.
Even in death, he was made to endure filth.
Jiwon was lost in thought.
Maybe it was because too much had happened in a single day, but he couldn’t fall asleep at all.
Every movement made the places he’d been beaten throb. Honestly, he couldn’t tell if it was the bruises that hurt more, or the hole that had taken something as big as a fist.
He lay there groaning, tangled in every kind of thought.
No matter how many times he told himself not to think about it, he always ended up back where he started.
The root of all this—that boy, and the man named Yeonseo—the ones who pulled him into this whole project—invaded his mind. And when the memories of that day tormented him, somehow, his thoughts always wandered to sex with Number 3. That perfect cock that had slid in and out of him.
If he were here tonight, Jiwon wouldn’t be thinking these things, he thought with regret.
He tried to ignore the heat building below.
He needed to manage his condition for tomorrow, but ended up staying up the entire night.
The sound of a siren made him turn toward the full-length window.
In stark contrast to Jiwon’s chaotic emotions, the sky outside was brilliantly blue and cloudless.
The siren, which had blared for about a minute, stopped—followed by an alarm on the tablet PC.
Jiwon went to the desk and opened the tablet’s cover.
One message was a general announcement. The other was from the Captain.
He tapped the general announcement first.
It said Kang Jooyoung had been expelled. Despite causing a major incident, Numbers 9 and 3 only received 10 penalty points. The rest of Team 1, who had also gotten involved, each received just 5.
Only Lee Jihoon, with his broken nose, was truly pitiful.
Jiwon smirked bitterly and checked the message from the Captain.
Come to the Developer Room after your enema.
Sex was scheduled again today. Just like yesterday, it might be a surprise game. A sex game.
So Developer Class wasn’t over after all.
Jiwon clicked his tongue at how obsessed they were with his chest.
Honestly, ever since leaving Eden, he’d stopped thinking about his chest. It wasn’t like it didn’t exist anymore, but compared to when he used to cry out for it to be touched or begged to be fondled, the development effects had diminished shockingly.
The supervisors must’ve noticed something he hadn’t and added another session.
Meticulous bastards.
Dragging his leaden body, Jiwon headed to the bathroom.
The enema tools were prepped on the shelf as always. He started the morning with something he’d never get used to.
After more than an hour of effort—enema and shower complete—he opened the wardrobe.
Still no clothes to wear. No shoes, sneakers, not even slippers.
No one had told him to come naked, so Jiwon stepped out barefoot, wearing only a shower gown.
The hallway was empty.
Since no one was watching, Jiwon figured it was the perfect chance—not to go straight to the Developer Room, but to head across the hall to Team 1’s quarters, the former police officers’ rooms.
He wanted to apologize for lashing out at Number 3 yesterday, not knowing he had helped him.
And he wanted to say thank you.
But no matter how much he knocked, there was no answer.
He knocked on the next room—Son Geonwoo’s—but got nothing there either.
Still being punished?
For the Manito Game, they had returned to their rooms by midnight, but this time must have been different. It wasn’t just losing the game—they had incited a riot. They wouldn’t get off with just a re-education video.
Maybe they had even started their schedules earlier than him.
Feeling oddly disappointed, Jiwon loitered for a while before heading toward the lobby.
The Sailors’ quarters were just as quiet. Everyone had different enema times, so some might’ve already gone to the Developer Room, and others might still be in their rooms—but the silence felt excessive.
Uneasy, Jiwon descended the stairs alone. On the way, he didn’t run into a single Muzzle.
No matter how individual the schedules were, wasn’t this too quiet?
Being barefoot meant his steps made no sound. Jiwon felt like a ghost.
When he arrived at the Developer Room, the door was locked. They told him to come—so why was it locked?
Just as he reached to knock, the door cracked open. Only slightly.
A masked nurse blocked the entrance and asked for ID.
“Please extend your left arm.”
Jiwon blinked, confused, as the nurse scanned his bracelet with a device like a card reader. He’d gotten so used to the thing he’d forgotten it was even there. He stared at the green light on the scanner.
“Please state your affiliation and name.”
They wanted him to say it himself.
“Crew Zero. Sailor 1.”
They must’ve been confirming his voice.
Only then did the nurse let him inside.
“Thank you. Identity verified.”
She locked the door behind him.
“Due to last night’s incident, we’ve been instructed to take extra precautions. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
The nurse sounded polite—but she spoke more like a guard than a nurse.
Someone had been seriously hurt, so security was understandable. Still, voice confirmation on top of ID seemed excessive.
It felt like they were being too cautious.
Jiwon didn’t show it. He just nodded and waited.
The waiting room smelled as nice as ever, and aside from another nurse, it was empty.
“Please wait just ten minutes.”
The nurse placed a bottle of water in front of him.
Realizing he hadn’t had a single drop of water since waking, Jiwon opened the bottle immediately and took a long drink. He leaned back on the sofa, waiting for the others, and started to feel... good.
Just like that time.
A giggle slipped out.
“Sailor 1, you may come into the exam room now.”
“Yes!” Jiwon responded brightly.
He hadn’t run into a single person up to this point.
The doctor greeted him with his usual friendly demeanor.
Jiwon sat down to be examined and lowered his gown to his waist.
“Oh my, what a bruise. Are you okay?”
Clicking his tongue, the doctor examined Jiwon’s back with a stethoscope.
“I heard about the riot yesterday. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
The soft voice comforted him.
Jiwon flinched every time the stethoscope passed over him, and when it pressed into his chest, he giggled like a child.
“You’re very healthy. Let’s begin the session. This way.”
The doctor led him to the treatment bed.
It was still cold in the all-white room.
Goosebumps rose on his skin, and his nipples hardened, naturally.
No skirt this time. He lay naked on the bed.
With a cheerful snap, the doctor pulled on latex gloves and bound Jiwon’s hands and feet to the bed.
Tied down, Jiwon stared up at the white ceiling.
The room felt even colder than before. A breeze rustled the lace curtains.
Despite the shiver, the sensation was strangely pleasant.
“Now, let’s begin.”
The second Developer Class began.
Jiwon screamed the entire session. He sobbed as he released every fluid his body could manage.
His whole body’s nerves were drawn to his nipples and areola. The stimulation was unbearable.
He moaned obscenely, bucking his hips and arching his back.
What had once been merely a chest had become tits.
Far more sensitive than after the first session. Even air brushing against them sent him into spasms. It was so intense, he thought he might die.
Barely surviving the first round, he passed out shortly after the second began—without even realizing it.
When he opened his eyes, he was in the recovery room, IV drip attached, tucked under a blanket. Thick curtains had been drawn, so he couldn’t see who else was there.
He was thirsty. His lips were cracked from dryness.
As he tried to roll over and pull the curtain, his chest ached horribly. More specifically—his nipples and areola throbbed like hell.
He tried to lift his head to check his chest, but he couldn’t.
It was wrapped tight in bandages, all the way down to his sternum.
Why the hell would they bandage his chest after a development session?
His mind was too hazy to think clearly.
A nurse noticed he was awake, pulled back the curtain, and came closer to flip his eyelids. She shone a flashlight into his eyes and ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) recorded something on a tablet.
“Are you experiencing any discomfort?”
“M-My chest.”
“Ah, that’s from the tattoo retouching. During development, there’s a lot of movement, and that can cause injury. So we sedated you and retouched the area.”
He hadn’t expected an explanation, but the nurse was surprisingly thorough.
So they’d redone the tattoo.
Were his nipples hot pink again? Hot pink. Pink. Fucking pink.
A weak giggle escaped him.
Still high.
His lips cracked as he spoke.
“Water, please...”
“Just a moment.”
Before the nurse returned with the bottle, Jiwon had already drifted back to sleep—and when he woke again, he was fully conscious.
Only then did he process what the nurse had said.
The pigment that had been fading... was now vivid again.
That photo from the autopsy flashed in his mind. The stark contrast between the corpse’s pale skin and the bright pink tattooed nipples. The only part that still looked alive.
The thought that he now bore the same mark made Jiwon curse aloud as he sat up.
As if waiting, the nurse handed him a shower gown.
“The pain should subside in 24 hours. But if it’s too much, please take a painkiller.”
Fucking painkillers.
He’d taken so many from the clinic during this stay that he barely felt pain in his arms anymore. They had to be narcotic. No way they weren’t.
Maybe they just didn’t mention the side effects.
As always, he had no idea how much time had passed.
“What time is it?”
“Ten thirty.”
Wake-up at six. Enema, travel, Developer Class, tattoo retouching—four and a half hours.
He hadn’t eaten anything but water, yet he wasn’t hungry.
“Hey... where are the other team members?”
“Everyone but two has moved to the counseling room.”
The nurse gestured to the other curtained bed.
Counseling room?
“Go past the HQ dorms on the second floor. Last room at the end.”
She gave him directions.
Counseling? Out of nowhere?
“I’ll inform them that you’re on your way,” the nurse added behind him. A kind of warning not to deviate.
Before heading to the counseling room, Jiwon staggered through the first-floor corridor as if trying to clear his head. He counted every step. Even barefoot, the corridor had grown—220 extra paces. The hallway had been extended.
But the number of marked rooms and exits remained the same.
Either a hidden space had been added, or one space had been enlarged. He wanted to check more carefully, but too many eyes were watching. He went straight to the second floor, swaying deliberately, and turned toward the HQ dorms as instructed.
He didn’t need to ask which room was the counseling office. Three crew members in shower gowns were already seated, waiting.
One of them was Gwak Chan.