Chapter 52- Who is She?

His fingers twisted inside her, hitting that spot that made her entire body convulse.

"Mmmmph—!" Hana’s hand pressed harder against her mouth, her eyes rolling back as unwanted pleasure crashed through her.

Beside her, Min-jung’s eyes fluttered.

Hana’s entire body went rigid with terror.

’No. Please. Please don’t wake up. Please—’

A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. They fell without her permission, hot and heavy, tracing paths down her face to drip onto the bedsheet below.

One landed on Min-jung’s hand.

The girl’s fingers twitched.

’No!’

Hana’s free hand scrambled across the bed, desperately searching for the mask. Her fingers found it—smooth plastic, lightweight—and she shoved it back onto her face so hard it actually hurt.

The eye holes aligned just as Min-jung’s eyes started to open.

Raven’s fingers were still buried inside her. Still moving. But slower now. Deliberate.

Hana’s body trembled violently, caught between terror and the unwanted pleasure still building in her core. Her hand stayed clamped over her mouth, muffling the desperate whimpers that wanted to escape.

’Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t see. Please—’

Min-jung’s eyelids fluttered fully open.

For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, her expression blank and confused. Like she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there.

Then her lips moved.

"Sigh," she breathed out, the sound heavy with exhaustion and resignation. "So it was a dream."

Her eyes started to close again.

From across the room, Raven chuckled.

The sound was low. Amused. Absolutely ’wicked’.

"You bet it wasn’t."

’’’

Min-jung’s eyes snapped open again.

That voice.

’That fucking voice.’

Her head turned so fast her neck cracked, eyes landing on—

’Him.’

Standing by her desk. Shirtless. That stupid perfect body on full display like he was modeling for some fucking romance novel cover.

Purple eyes locked onto hers, a smirk playing at his lips.

Min-jung’s brain short-circuited.

"Wha—’EEEK’!" She jolted upright so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. She scrambled backward across the bed like a startled cat, her back hitting the wall with a painful ’thud’. "Wait wait wait wait WAIT—"

Her voice climbed three octaves, hands flying up in front of her defensively.

"Why are you—how are you—YOU’RE REAL?!"

Raven shrugged one shoulder, the movement making his abs flex in a way that should be illegal.

"Ask your pussy," he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather. "It might not lie to you."

’’!’’

Min-jung’s face went nuclear-red.

The memory slammed into her like a freight train—his face buried between her thighs, his tongue doing things that should come with a fucking ’warning label’, her screaming so loud her throat went raw—

"That—that was—that actually—" Her words dissolved into incoherent sputtering.

Behind Raven, partially hidden by his body, movement caught her eye.

The woman in the apron.

The one wearing Min-jung’s cosplay mask.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, her thick body trembling visibly even from across the room. Her hand pressed against the mask like she was trying to melt into it.

And Min-jung’s artist brain—the part that’d spent years studying human anatomy and body language for her work—started cataloging details without her permission.

The way the woman’s shoulders were shaking. The soft, muffled sound of breathing behind the mask. The defensive way she was holding herself.

The curve of her hips. The thickness of her thighs. The way her hand pressed against the mask—

’Familiar.’

All of it was...

No.

Min-jung shook her head violently, her mind refusing to go down that path.

Raven took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Min-jung’s face.

"Surprised?" he asked, that infuriating smirk widening slightly.

"I—you—what are you doing in my apartment?!" Min-jung finally managed to string together a coherent sentence, though her voice was still three octaves too high.

"Cooking," Raven said simply. "Your kitchen’s a mess, by the way."

"That’s—that’s not—" Min-jung’s hands clutched at her hoodie, pulling it tighter around herself like it could somehow protect her. "You can’t just break into someone’s apartment and start—start—"

Her eyes darted past him again. To the woman.

The masked woman who was now looking directly at her.

And even through the mask’s eye holes, even with most of her face hidden...

Those eyes.

Dark. Familiar. Filled with something that looked like...

Grief?

Min-jung’s stomach dropped.

Behind the mask, Hana was screaming internally.

’She’s looking at me. She’s LOOKING at me. Does she recognize me? Can she tell? Oh god, if she finds out—if she knows her mother is here, naked except for an apron, with the man who just—’

Hana’s whole body trembled harder.

And then the thought that made her want to die:

’Did I just sleep with my daughter’s boyfriend?’

The realization hit like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Of course that’s what Min-jung would think. What else could she possibly think? There was a man in her apartment. A devastatingly handsome man. And a woman wearing nothing but an apron.

The implications were obvious.

’Oh god. Oh god, I’m the worst person alive. I’m—I’m—’

Her hand pressed against the mask so hard it hurt, trying desperately to disappear, to become invisible, to somehow erase the past twelve hours and pretend none of this ever happened.

Because if Min-jung found out...

If her daughter learned that the masked woman currently sitting on her bed—still leaking cum from being thoroughly fucked in every possible position—was her own mother...

’It would destroy everything.’

What little remained of their relationship. Any chance of reconciliation. Any hope that maybe, someday, Min-jung might forgive her for being weak, for staying with that bastard, for not protecting her daughter the way a mother should.

All of it would be gone.

Burned to ash in an instant.

Hana’s chest heaved, her breasts still exposed above the pulled-down apron, her pussy still throbbing from Raven’s fingers.

And all she could do was sit there.

Trembling.

Crying silently behind the mask.

Praying to every god she didn’t believe in that her daughter wouldn’t recognize her.

"You—you need to leave!" Min-jung finally found her voice, though it came out more like a squeak than the authoritative demand she was going for. Her hands clutched at her hoodie, knuckles white. "Right now! Get out of my apartment!"

Raven’s smirk widened. He took a slow, deliberate step toward the bed.

"I told you already," he said, his voice dropping into that low register that made her thighs clench involuntarily. "I’ll pay with my body. For letting me stay here."

The words hit Min-jung like a physical thing. Her entire body trembled—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous. The memory of his tongue between her legs flashed through her mind unbidden, and her face went even redder.

"N-no! Stop!" She held up both hands like she could physically ward him off as he moved closer. "Don’t you dare come any—"

He sat down.

Right there on the edge of her bed. Close enough that she could smell him—that masculine scent that’d been haunting her nightmares for the past day. Close enough that the heat radiating off his bare chest made her skin prickle.

Min-jung scrambled further back against the wall, her breathing coming in short, panicked bursts.

Then her eyes flicked past him. To the woman still sitting there in that ridiculous apron and mask.

"Who..." Min-jung’s voice was barely a whisper. "Who is she, by the way?"