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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Snail Scramble
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I've been to Itaewon outside the novel to hang out once. Met up with friends and wandered around, checking out the sights. I remember seeing a ton of foreigners back then.
Especially as evening hit and the booze started flowing, these buff black guys came out in force. They strolled the streets with girls tucked under their arms.
It was pure overwhelming swagger—their presence alone crushed me. Just brushing past one made me shrink back, words failing me. That's when I realized a scrawny Asian body had no chance against blacks.
That's why I went off leaving toxic comments on Taming the Worst Spirit. I had a hand in that backlash.
Black side characters isolating with the heroines, making them blush subtly. After a string of events, Dokgo Hwaryeon, Gong Su-ji, and Wang Ja-hee all started showing the same reactions.
But the author denied any fucking happened. Like, if he says no fucking, that makes it true? Reeking of netorare vibes?
"At that point, probably hadn't fucked yet."
In the end, the author pulled it off. Dropped an NTR drift in a harem academy novel. Hinted at it from Lee Do-jun's POV, then nailed it down with the omniscient author view.
I couldn't stand it. I was invested in the story, so I raged harder. Said it was 80% done, but I kept following and dropped comments totaling 5,700 characters.
"...And right after, I ended up like this."
Thanks to that, I never finished it. Not like I planned to anyway. The back half turns into straight NTR.
The future I knew covered the mid-to-late plot, all the way to plotting against world destruction and struggling through it.
Used my E-rank gate payout to buy clothes. Not the stuff I'd wear as an Asian, but bold new territory I never tried. Hip-hop incarnate, draped on my frame.
Academy uniform draws too much eyes—useless for shady business. Better safe if I run into someone I know.
"Hey, where you from?"
Strolling Itaewon in civvies, someone calls out. Another black guy like me, but softer vibe. Felt less hardened than mine.
Blacks close in around me. Crew sizing me up top to bottom. No hostility, but it rubbed me wrong.
"Where you from?"
"Yeah, where you from, man."
"Umm, my hometown is..."
About to spin a fake backstory when he waves me off. Cuts me short and starts cackling.
"Oh, no need to say."
"Why not?"
"You're no American, right? English accent's a bit off. Korean sounds half-assed too."
"..."
Wondered if I'd even spoken English. Shook it off quick. I don't speak it—Black Johnson's body just filters my words automatically.
"Not American? Good enough. Peace."
"Wait, you just drop that and bounce?"
"Yeah. Problem?"
They circle me tight. Shorter blacks, but their aura hits different. Nothing like punking Asian twerps.
"Wanna die, bro?"
"First time in Itaewon? Gutsy hitting us up."
"Look young—stick to what your dick can handle. Or it'll shrivel like a monkey prick."
Blacks pack up in foreign turf. Form crews, flaunt power, muscle gains outta nowhere.
"Holy shit, y'all soft as hell, yo. No fight worth having."
"What?"
"Touch this body, you die."
They're menacing me, poking my shoulders to flex. Black dudes with dicks touching me? Hands shaking with rage.
Linked Iron Mk.2 on instinct. My body shifts to iron. Ready to smash a pack of these fools flat.
"This fucker's a hero?!"
One clocks the change. Cadets miss links, but these blacks? Sharp as hell.
"Yes. Don't wanna get wrecked? Bounce. Can't hold back my temper, yo."
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙They eye each other, then one bolts tail-between-legs. Rest follow. First guy's hanging longest.
"Hero! Fucking!"
He didn't last. Flips me the bird long and hard, hauls ass. No real fight in 'em—smarter to rabbit quick.
I drop the link. Iron Mk.2 fades.
"Good thing Korea's hero-friendly."
Webnovels skip the frustrating bits. So in-story Korea rolls out pro-hero policies.
To lure top heroes homegrown. Piling on duties just repels talent—Korea's asks are minimal.
Result? Hero creds = get-out-of-jail-free, near as makes no difference. Civvies got no beef worth picking, 'specially with foreigners.
Wandered Itaewon casual. Saturday night—prime party hours ahead. Eyeing a drunk chick to reel in, dick already stiffening.
Sun dips, crowds spill out. Chilly still, but layers peel thin. Eye candy galore.
Men glare like predators on the hunt. Women bask in the stares, hips swaying proud. Asses twerking, peacock tails seducing reason away.
Drinking kicks off early. Drunks stagger every which way. Chick puking in an alley corner, dude guarding her turf.
"Where she at, though?"
Came to Itaewon hunting pussy. Fresh black cock needs a worthy hole to plunge.
Normie chicks? Nah. Don't wanna bang randos I'll never see again. Want repeat action, build some rapport.
Had a solid mark nearby. Ryu Ji-ah, Class A homeroom teacher. No cadet restrictions on her.
"Surprisingly big name—no SNS at all. But traces ain't hidden."
Know her crew. Lee Do-jun uncovers her dirt same route.
Shocker: prim and proper daily, but Itaewon club rat in truth.
World's danger trio: folks who "don't love money," great "party drinkers," and "club dancers only."
"All bullshit."
Gonna bag Ryu Ji-ah. Plan locked. Exploit her drunk-no-filter mode with ninja drink-swap jutsu.
"Befriend first? Impossible."
Takes too damn long. Don't wanna waste time on a slut handing it to every foreigner. Cadet me wouldn't score anyway.
Tail her friend's name. Pin her bar spot, stake out nearby. Chicks kept chatting me up—shot 'em all down, stayed low.
"Hunter incoming."
Decent-looking dude pitches joining Ryu Ji-ah's group. Quick scans, greenlit. Dudes muscle in, steer the vibe.
Even 3-on-3 matchup. One dude rings familiar. Like I've seen him before. Can't place it—eerie.
─ ...
"Umm, Earth/Soil, what's up all sudden?"
The spirit hits me up. More gripe than chat. Weaker than a pup or kitten mew—pure one-way feels.
"Okay, got it."
Earth/Soil tags the spot. Alley corner across the way—check it, vibe blasts.
Link Iron Mk.2 to my ear.
"Iron's everywhere."
Earth/Soil, Stone/Rock, Iron Mk.2—basic elements all 'round. Link taps ambient noise. Neat trick.
─ Hot chick over there? ─ Heh heh, looks tasty. Her friends too. ─ Then we work that side?
Familiar voices pipe up. Hours-old tones, thick American drawl. Cap pulled low, senses honed razor-sharp.
Share sight with Earth/Soil. ID the owners. The blacks I almost scrapped with—ogling my target Ryu Ji-ah, snickering.
"Time to clean house."
Perfect timing—Ryu Ji-ah's crew shifts venues. Vibe's cozy now, good times had.
Ryu Ji-ah peels off solo with one dude for round two. Halfway to home run from his angle.
Without me and the black pack crashing, he'd score that sweet pussy and bounce happy. Wrong guy, wrong night.
"...That dude?"
The guy leading Ryu Ji-ah—familiar, yeah. Army corporal from East Seoul Terminal today. The one I passed fighting spirit to. Now sweet-talking her smooth.
"Uuung, throat dry... hit a convenience store...?"
"Ah, yeah. Whatever you want, sis."
Streets going nuts. Pretty, stacked Ryu Ji-ah draws eyes galore. But winner takes one.
They emerge from the store. Dude pockets condoms, props her up. She leans in, steps forward.
Not blackout—perfect buzz, heading motel-ward for fun. Adults, no issue.
"Hey."
Black pack rolls out. Surrounds the guy and Ryu Ji-ah, herds to shady alley. I tail 'em.
Empty backstreet threats. No man stands up to that crew.
"Ditch the girl, we let you walk."
"..."
⚠️ CRITICAL WARNING ⚠️
Army friend and Ryu Ji-ah are in danger.
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