The clinic smelled faintly of eucalyptus and lavender.
Soft jazz floated through the soundproofed space. Joon-ho had lit a single candle. His shirt sleeves were rolled, hands freshly washed. Everything was perfect.
He checked the appointment name one more time: Lee Ha-eun. Alias, clearly.
At 3:01 PM, the bell chimed.
She stepped in—face covered with a hat and sunglasses, oversized hoodie hugging her tiny frame. But Joon-ho recognized her instantly.
Kwon Mirae. National sweetheart. Drama queen. Actress of the year.
He greeted her with a gentle smile. "Miss Lee?"
She nodded shyly. "Yes. Sorry. I… hope it's okay I came."
"Of course," he said smoothly. "You're right on time."
She followed him in silence to the treatment room.
Once the door clicked shut, she exhaled. Removed her sunglasses. Then her hat. Joon-ho took her coat gently, revealing toned legs under a short cotton dress.
"You were referred by Madam Seo?"
She flushed. "She said you helped with her… sleep. And tension."
"She exaggerates," he said softly. "But I'll do what I can."
She smiled. It was weak. Tired. Her eyes were rimmed with faint shadows.
"I haven't slept more than four hours a night for weeks," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "My waist… hurts. Headaches. Shooting pain here—" she pointed to her temple "—and here." She turned, touching the small of her back.
"I see," he said gently. "Undress to your comfort level. Lie face down on the table. I'll step out for a moment."
When he returned, she was on the table, face down, towel draped over her hips. Her back rose and fell slowly. He noticed her breathing was shallow—tense.
He warmed oil between his palms. The moment his hands touched her shoulders, she jumped.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Just… ticklish. And sensitive."
He began slowly.
Upper back. Shoulders. Long, gliding strokes. Her muscles were tight, cords knotted like piano wire. As he kneaded deeper, she let out a shaky breath.
"I'll apply pressure. You tell me if it's too much."
"…Okay."
His thumbs pressed along her spine, careful but firm. She moaned.
Then quickly coughed. "Sorry."
He smiled but didn't answer. Just kept working.
Her moans kept coming—light, embarrassed, barely-there. But real.
The towel shifted slightly with each movement. Her thighs twitched. Her breathing changed.
He slid lower, palms gliding down the length of her back, to her waist. His fingers dug gently into the tense muscle beside her spine.
She let out a choked, gasping sound.
"Oh…"
He paused. "Pain?"
"No," she said quickly. "Just… surprised."
He returned to the spot. Pressed again. A tremor ran through her hips.
"Mirae," he said softly. "You're holding tension in your sacrum. Right above your tailbone. May I apply deeper pressure there?"
She hesitated, then nodded silently.
He adjusted her towel slightly, revealing the top of her ass. Not fully—but enough to give him access to the source of her tightness.
His thumbs worked in slow, hypnotic circles at the base of her spine.
Her body melted.
She let out a long, shuddering exhale—and a moan she didn't mean to make.
"…Oh god…"
"Let go," he said softly. "You're safe here."
She whimpered as the pressure built—then released with a visible full-body tremor.
Her thighs clenched. Hips lifted slightly. Her hands gripped the sides of the table.
She came.
It was small. Quiet. A ripple through her system.
He didn't mention it. Didn't stop.
He moved to her lower back, spreading oil along the curve of her hips. The heat between them was real now—her body responding to every press, every knead, like his touch was feeding her.
Her legs parted just a little.
She moaned again.
"Joon-ho…"
"Yes?"
"…What are you doing to me?"
"Releasing your tension."
She swallowed.
"It feels… too good."
"I can stop."
"…No. Please keep going."
He smiled softly, even though she couldn't see it. "Of course."
His hands moved to her thighs, working up along the adductor muscles. Never touching her sex—but close enough to feel her warmth. Her hips began rocking gently against the table.
He pressed at a point just beside the groin—technically clinical.
Her breath hitched. "A-ah…"
"Still okay?" he asked calmly.
"…I think so," she whispered.
Her body was damp with sweat now. Her toes curled. Her shoulders relaxed more with every pass of his hands.
A second orgasm came—and went—like a breath.
She twitched. Moaned. Shivered.
Then her body went limp.
He stopped.
Waited.
She said nothing. Just lay there, breathing softly. Her eyes fluttered open for a second—then closed again.
And then…
A soft smile.
A true one.
Her legs were still parted. Her face was relaxed for the first time in years.
He pulled the towel back gently over her. Adjusted the blanket. Dimmed the lights further.
She was already asleep.