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Pokemon The Darkest Route
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Three days later, Golden Hands was no longer a ghost shop.
Mrs. Kim had been true to her word.
The woman was a walking, talking billboard for my services, and her influence in the Cheongdam-dong housewives' circle was absolute.
By Wednesday afternoon, Aunt Ji-hye was frantically juggling phone calls, her appointment book filling up with names of women who had too much money and too little affection at home.
I sat in the break room, wiping specialized almond oil from my hands.
My stamina bar was hovering at a respectable 60%, but my mental fatigue was real.
I had spent the last four hours kneading the knots out of three different trophy wives.
[System: Host, you're essentially running a high-end escourt service with extra steps.
Therapy?
Please Mrs Lee just tipped you 50,000 won because you grazed her ass with your elbow.]
"It's honest work," I retorted internally, chugging a protein shake.
"And the points are stacking up."
[Current Lust Points: 850]
[Shop Reputation: The Hidden Gem (Rank E)]
"Jin-woo!" Aunt Ji-hye hissed, poking her head into the break room.
She looked pale. "We have a... walk-in.
She didn't make an appointment."
"Tell her we're booked until Friday," I said, stretching my neck.
"I tried," Ji-hye whispered, her eyes wide. "She flashed a badge.
It's the police."
I paused.
The loan sharks.
Mr. Choi, The broken finger.
It had only been a matter of time before the law came sniffing around.
The system's Quest had warned me.
"Relax, Auntie," I said, standing up and buttoning my white therapist's shirt.
"Go make some tea.
I'll handle the law."
I walked out into the waiting room.
Standing by the reception desk, looking completely out of place among the velvet chairs and scented candles, was a woman who radiated danger.
Detective Kang So-young.
She was tall, almost 5'9", wearing a worn-out leather bomber jacket over a grey t-shirt that clung to a chest that looked heavy and restricted.
Her jeans were faded, and on her hip, clearly visible, was a holster housing a standard-issue revolver.
Her face was sharp, beautiful in a rough, untamed way.
Her dark hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her eyes had dark bags under them that spoke of stakeouts and shitty coffee.
[Target Detected: Kang So-young]
[Role: Detective (Violent Crimes Unit)]
[Status: Suspicious / Hostile / Chronically in Pain]
[Lust: 5% (Married to the job)]
[Favorability: -40% (Thinks you're a thug)]
She turned as I entered, her eyes scanning me like a barcode reader.
"Han Jin-woo," she stated.
Her voice was raspy, a smoker's alto. "Nephew of the owner.
Student at Yeonsei.
And apparently, the guy who snapped a loan shark's finger like a twig three days ago."
"Officer," I smiled, leaning against the doorframe.
"I prefer Therapist.
And regarding Mr. Choi... it was self-defense.
He fell."
"He fell?" She scoffed, stepping closer.
She smelled of rain and gunpowder.
"He fell onto your fist?
His finger was twisted 180 degrees.
That takes precision, kid Or years of training."
She stopped right in front of me, invading my space.
She was trying to intimidate me.
It might have worked on the old Jin-woo. But now?
I looked her in the eye.
"He was threatening my aunt," I said, my voice dropping.
"I removed the threat.
Is that a crime, Detective?"
"Assault is a crime," she countered, her hand resting lazily near her gun.
"Mr. Choi is a scumbag, so I'm not shedding tears.
But I don't like vigilantes.
Especially rich kids playing gangster in my district."
She poked my chest with a manicured finger.
It was hard.
"I'm watching you, Han.
If I find out this place is a front for money laundering or prostitution, I'll shut you down so fast your head will spin."
She turned to leave.
But as she pivoted, she flinched.
It was subtle.
A tiny hitch in her step.
Her hand instinctively went to her lower back, just above her belt line.
I grinned.
Gotcha.
"Detective," I called out.
She paused, looking over her shoulder. "What?"
"You're walking with a limp," I noted.
"Left side And you're favoring your right leg when you stand, L4 vertebrae?
Or maybe it's the sciatic nerve flaring up from sitting in a patrol car for twelve hours a day?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Did you run a medical background check on me?"
"No," I said, walking around the desk.
"I just have eyes.
You're in pain, Detective.
You're tough, so you hide it.
You pop painkillers and pretend it's fine.
But it's not fine.
It's burning right now, isn't it?
Like a hot poker shoved right above your ass."
She stiffened.
I had hit the bullseye.
"Watch your mouth, kid."
"I can fix it," I said.
She laughed, a harsh bark.
"You think you can massage away a three-year-old takedown injury?
I've seen specialists."
"Specialists don't have my hands," I said, holding them up.
"I'll make you a deal.
Twenty minutes, If I can't make that pain disappear, I'll confess to breaking Choi's finger.
I'll sign a statement right now."
Silence stretched in the room.
Aunt Ji-hye gasped from the kitchen doorway.
So-young stared at me.
She was weighing the odds.
She wanted to arrest me, but the pain... I could see the red lines of agony radiating from her spine with my Eye of Discernment.
It was constant, maddening torture.
"And if you fix it?" she asked skeptically.
"Then you walk away," I said.
"And you admit that Golden Hands is a legitimate business."
She hesitated for three seconds.
Then, she groaned, the pain winning out.
"Fine," she hissed.
"But keep the door unlocked.
And if you try anything funny, I will shoot you in the knee."
"I love a woman who plays hard to get," I smirked.
"Room 1, Take off the gun."
The Treatment Suite
The room was dim, the lavender scent clashing with the aggressive aura she brought in.
So-young stood by the massage table.
She unbuckled her gun belt with practiced ease and slammed it onto the side counter. The heavy thud was a reminder of who she was.
"Shirt off," I commanded, locking the door.
"You said door unlocked," she snapped.
"I lied.
I need concentration," I replied, leaning against the wall.
"Unless you're scared, Detective?
You have a gun within reach. I'm unarmed."
She glared at me, grinding her teeth.
"Turn around," she ordered.
"No," I said, my voice darkening.
"I'm the doctor here.
I need to see the range of motion.
Take it off, So-young."
Using her first name was a power move.
It stripped the rank away.
She hesitated, her hands hovering over the hem of her grey t-shirt.
Her eyes locked with mine.
It was a contest of wills.
Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled the shirt up.
It revealed a torso that was toned but battered.
She had abs, but they were covered in faint scars.
She was wearing a utilitarian black sports bra that flattened her chest.
But what caught my eye was the angry red bruising around her waist... from the holster and the heavy duty belt.
"Turn," I said.
She turned her back to me.
Her back was a map of stress.
The muscles were corded, tight as steel cables.
She unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them down, kicking them aside.
She kept her underwear on , simple black cotton,Functional,Unsexy.
Or so she thought.
To me, seeing the tough-as-nails detective stripped down to her basics was incredibly erotic.
"On the table," I said.
"Face down, ass up"
She climbed onto the table, grunting as her bad back adjusted to the flat surface. She buried her face in the cradle.
"Get on with it," she muffled.
"Clock's ticking."
"System," I thought.
"Activate Golden Hands.
Maximize sensory input.
I want her to feel every fingerprint."
[System: Host, you nasty boy.
She's a cop. This is high risk. But... high risk, high reward.
Activating Sensory Overload protocol.
Her nerves are now 200% more sensitive.]
I poured the oil into my hands, rubbing them together until they were hot.
I didn't start gentle.
I placed my hands firmly on her shoulders.
She flinched violently.
"Cold?" I asked.
"No," she breathed.
"Hot. Your hands are... hot."
"Relax," I whispered.
I began to knead.
Her trapezius muscles were like rocks.
She carried the weight of every unsolved case right there.
I dug my thumbs in.
"Fuck," she hissed.
"That hurts."
"Pain is just weakness leaving the body, isn't that what they teach at the academy?" I teased.
I moved down her spine, tracing the vertebrae one by one.
My touch wasn't clinical anymore.
It was possessive.
My fingers slid over her oiled skin, exploring the dips and curves of her back.
When I reached her lower back..the injury site , I stopped.
"Here," I said.
"Don't," she warned, her voice tight.
"It's sensitive."
"I know."
I pressed my palm flat against her sacrum.
I felt her shiver beneath me.
"You're tight everywhere, So-young," I murmured, leaning down so my lips were inches from her ear.
"You walk around all day acting like the big bad wolf, but right here... underneath... you're ready to snap."
I circled my thumb over the injury.
With the Sensory Overload active, to her, it must have felt like electricity.
She let out a low moan that she tried to turn into a cough.
"Just... fix it," she gasped.
"I am," I said.
I moved my hands lower.
To her ass cheeks.
She tensed up, her ass muscles clenching tight.
"Relax the cheeks," I commanded.
"I can't reach the nerve if you're clamping your ass shut like a nun."
[System: Lust Points +50.
She's embarrassed but aroused.
The shame of being touched there by a suspect is fueling her.]
"Shut up," she spat, but she relaxed.
I dug my knuckles into the meat of her ass cheeks.
It was intimate,Dirty.
My hands were slippery with oil, sliding over her firm skin, squeezing and kneading.
I wasn't just massaging a muscle; I was handling her.
"Oh god," she groaned, her head twisting in the cradle.
"Why does it feel like that?"
"Like what?" I asked, putting my weight into it.
"Like... fire."
"That's the blood flow returning," I lied.
"It's been dead for years.
I'm waking it up."
I worked one side, then the other.
My hands wandered dangerously close to the center, teasing the crack of her buttocks, then pulling away.
She was panting now.
The pain in her back was fading, replaced by a throbbing heat that was centering between her legs.
"You have a nice ass, Detective," I whispered, my voice rough.
"Strong. I bet you can squat a lot."
"Don't... sexualize... me," she stammered, but she bucked her hips up into my hand.
"I'm just complimenting the anatomy," I smirked.
I grabbed her hips with both hands, pulling her back slightly so her legs spread wider on the table.
"Hey!" she yelped.
"What are you doing?"
"Better angle," I said.
I stepped between her legs at the foot of the table.
I placed my hands on her inner thighs.
This was the line, I was crossing it.
I slid my hands up her inner thighs, toward her pussy.
"The sciatic nerve branches down here too," I said professionally, though my thumbs were dragging agonizingly slow over her sensitive skin.
She stopped breathing.
Her body was trembling.
She should have reached for her gun.
She should have arrested me.
But she didn't.
She spread her legs wider.
[Target: Kang So-young]
[Pain: 20% (Subsiding).]
[Lust: 60% (Spiking).]
[Resistance: Crumbling.]
"You know," I said, sliding my hands up until I was cupping the curve where her thigh met her ass.
"I heard female cops have a lot of pent-up frustration.
All that adrenaline... and nowhere to put it."
I squeezed her thighs hard.
"Am I right?"
"You're... arrogant," she moaned, her voice dripping with need.
"You think you can just... rub me and I'll fall apart?"
"I think you're already falling apart," I whispered.
I moved one hand to the center.
Over her black cotton panties.
She was wet. I could feel the heat radiating through the fabric.
I didn't touch her directly.
I just hovered my hand there, letting the heat of my palm tease her clit through the cotton.
"Jin-woo..." she warned, but it sounded like a plea.
"Tell me to stop," I challenged her, echoing the same game I played with Yuna.
" tell me to stop and I'll walk out the door. You can put your gun back on and go catch bad guys."
She was silent.
All I heard was her ragged breathing and the slick sound of my oiled hand moving on her thigh.
"That's what I thought."
I hooked my finger under the elastic of her panties.
"System," I thought.
"How much stamina do I have left?"
[System: 40%. Plenty for a Happy Ending. But be careful, Host.
If you break her too fast, she might shoot you afterwards out of shame.
You need to make her beg for it]
"Begging is my specialty."
I leaned forward, pressing my chest against her oiled back.
I could feel her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"You're trembling, So-young," I whispered into her ear, my hand slowly pulling the black panties down an inch, revealing the top of her crack.
"Is it the pain?
Or are you realizing that for the first time in your life, you're not the one in control?"
She buried her face in the pillow, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
"Just... shut up and finish it," she groaned.
"Oh, I'm going to finish it," I promised, sliding my hand fully inside her underwear, my fingers brushing against her slick, wet heat. "But we're just getting started."
Author's Note:
And that is Part 1!
Detective Kang came in looking for a fight, but she found something else entirely.
Well dearies if you want part 2 support with power stones and collections.
Reviews are appreciated.