Chapter 54 - Clicking Shame

Raven’s voice was casual, amused even. His hand was still on Hana’s ass, massaging the thick flesh like she was his property to show off.

Min-jung’s nose twitched.

The smell of food hit her again. Her stomach—which she’d been ignoring in favor of panic—chose that moment to let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

’Grooowwwl.’

Her face went red. "I..."

Her eyes moved to the small kitchen area where pots were still steaming. The rice cooker light was on. There were actual dishes—multiple dishes—laid out on her tiny counter. Food she definitely didn’t make. Food she definitely couldn’t afford to order.

Home-cooked food.

Her mouth watered despite everything.

When was the last time she’d eaten something that wasn’t instant ramen or convenience store rice balls?

Her jaw clenched. "There’s no need for a hooker to be in my house, but—"

She moved before she could stop herself. Walked over to the counter, grabbed a bowl, and started ladling soup into it with shaking hands.

’Just one bite. Just to see if it’s actually good or if I’m hallucinating from exhaustion.’

She brought the bowl to her lips and took a sip.

The flavor exploded across her tongue.

Her eyes went wide.

It was... perfect. Not too salty. Not too bland. The vegetables were cooked just right—soft but not mushy. The broth was rich and deep, like it’d been simmering for hours. And the seasoning—

Min-jung took another sip. Then another. Before she knew it, she was drinking straight from the bowl like some kind of drunk, tilting her head back and letting the hot liquid pour down her throat.

"It tastes like..." The words slipped out before she could stop them. "...like Mother’s."

’’!’’

On the bed, Hana’s entire body went rigid.

’She remembers.’

Tears poured down Hana’s face in thick, heavy streams, soaking the mask completely. Her chest heaved with the force of holding back sobs.

’She remembers my cooking. After all this time. After everything. She still remembers.’

Slowly, shakily, Hana pushed herself up from where she’d been face-down on the mattress. Her massive breasts hung heavy, swaying with the movement. The apron was still bunched up around her waist, leaving her completely exposed from both sides.

But she didn’t care.

Her eyes—visible through the mask’s holes—locked onto her daughter’s back.

Min-jung was still standing at the counter, bowl in hand, completely unaware she was being watched.

And Hana smiled.

It was a broken, tear-stained smile that no one could see behind the mask. But it was real.

’My baby. My beautiful baby girl. She remembers.’

Hana took a step forward, her thick legs shaking slightly. The apron swayed with her movement, revealing the massive swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the thick patch of her recently-shaved pussy.

From behind, Raven watched with dark amusement as Hana’s thick ass cheeks jiggled with each step. The red handprint was still visible on her left cheek. Her thighs rubbed together slightly as she walked, the meat of them soft and plump.

Even after fucking her all night, the sight still made his cock twitch with interest.

Hana was about to take another step—about to move closer to her daughter, desperate to be near her even if Min-jung didn’t know who she was—

When Min-jung shook her head violently.

"Tch." The sound was disgusted. "Why am I even comparing that woman to a hooker?"

The words were like a knife straight through Hana’s heart.

Her foot froze mid-step.

"At least a hooker’s got the mouth to tell which client she wants," Min-jung continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Unlike that fool living with that trashy man."

’Crash.’

Hana’s entire world shattered.

The warm smile died on her lips. The hope that had flickered in her chest for just a moment—the foolish, desperate hope that maybe, somehow, things could be okay—extinguished like a candle in a hurricane.

’To my daughter... I’m worse than a roadside bitch.’

The realization hit with devastating clarity.

Min-jung didn’t just hate her. Didn’t just resent her for being a bad mother.

She ’despised’ her. Thought she was beneath even prostitutes. Because at least prostitutes had agency. Had choice. Had enough self-respect to say no.

But Hana?

Hana had stayed. Year after year. Taking the beatings. Taking the abuse. Never fighting back. Never leaving.

Just... existing. Like a punching bag with a pulse.

’I’m worthless. I’m less than worthless. My own daughter thinks I’m trash.’

Hana’s legs gave out.

She stumbled backward, her thick body losing balance—

—and landed directly on something hard.

"Hngh—!"

Her thick ass cheeks spread across Raven’s lap as she sat down hard on his thighs. His cock—already semi-hard from watching her walk—pressed against the crack of her ass through his pants.

"Ahh—!" The gasp escaped before she could stop it.

Strong hands immediately clamped around her massive breasts, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. Raven’s grip was possessive, brutal, kneading her tits like they were stress balls.

"Mmmph—!" Hana’s hand flew to her mouth, desperately trying to muffle the moan that wanted to escape.

Her eyes—still filled with tears—stared straight ahead.

At her daughter’s back.

’No. Not now. Please not now.’

But Raven’s fingers found her nipples, pinching and twisting the dark nubs with ruthless precision.

"Nnnngh—!" The sound came out muffled against her palm, but it was still audible in the small apartment.

At the counter, Min-jung’s head whipped around.

"What the—"

Her eyes landed on the scene.

Raven, sitting casually on her bed. The masked woman on his lap, her thick body completely exposed except for the bunched-up apron. His hands wrapped around her massive breasts, groping them openly. The woman’s hand pressed against her mouth, her thick thighs spread slightly where they straddled his legs.

Min-jung’s face went nuclear-red.

"You—you PERVERT!" she yelled, nearly dropping the bowl. "Can’t you control yourself for five seconds?!"

But even as she yelled, her eyes kept darting back to the scene. The way the woman’s breasts overflowed from Raven’s grip. The way her thick thighs trembled. The soft, muffled sounds escaping despite her efforts to stay quiet.

It was... obscene.

And Min-jung’s artist brain was already cataloging every detail.

’The way her flesh dimples where his fingers dig in. The contrast between his dark hands and her pale skin. The angle of her back. The way her ass spreads across his lap. The tension in her thighs.’

’This is... this is perfect reference material.’