PV Ch.4 Part 2

The drinks weren’t as good as he’d hoped.

Bomin had finished his desserts and returned to the hotel to drop off his shopping bags. He changed into one of his new outfits, a sleek black shirt that hugged his slender frame, and spritzed himself with cologne, a musky scent that the sales assistant had recommended. 

He’d taken a taxi to a club far from Shi Yu-hyeon’s bar, not wanting to risk bumping into him.

The guard at the entrance gave him a quick once-over before waving him inside, his expression impassive. 

It seemed to be a predominantly male club. There were a few women scattered around, but they were outnumbered by the men. 

Bomin, in his relatively tame outfit, felt almost underdressed amidst the flamboyant peac*cks strutting around, their clothes a riot of colors and textures.

Even in his previous world, people, celebrities and ordinary citizens alike, had experimented with hair dye, expressing their individuality through vibrant colors. 

Here, it was even more common. Some Espers’ hair and eye color changed when their abilities manifested, often influenced by the nature of their powers. 

Even the male leads were a testament to that. Han Biseong’s hair and eyes had a reddish tint, while Won Seongwoo’s were a silvery grey, like a wolf’s. Yoon Bisam, the one who’d set his heart racing, had eyes that shimmered blue in the light. Only Song Jaeho had retained his ordinary light brown hair.

The music in the club was loud, pulsating, a physical assault on his senses. Colorful lights flashed across the dance floor, illuminating the writhing bodies. 

Bomin navigated through the throng of people crowding the entrance and headed towards the bar. There were no chairs, so he leaned against the counter and ordered a glass of the club’s signature c*cktail. 

The bartender flashed him a smile and, with a flourish, combined whiskey, a crimson splash of juice, and ice in a shaker, shaking it with practiced flair. 

Unlike the patrons, the bartender wasn’t bad looking. 

He wasn’t strikingly handsome, but his features had a refreshing appeal that suited his attire. The same, however, could not be said for the rest of the club’s patrons who couldn’t even measure up to the bartender. 

Despite the diverse array of hairstyles, eye colors, and outfits, they all shared one peculiar trait: unsettlingly disproportionate features. A nice pair of eyes would be ruined by a wonky jaw, and if a profile caught your attention, a look at their face head-on would quickly shatter the illusion. 

“One Red Hole, coming right up.” 

“Thanks.”

A c*cktail glass, filled with a swirling red liquid, was placed in front of him. He took a sip, the tart berry flavor hitting his tongue, followed by a smooth burn as the alcohol slid down his throat. 

He wasn’t a heavy drinker. Two beers were usually enough to get him pleasantly buzzed. But this c*cktail, even after a single sip, was already making his head spin. 

“Are you here alone?” 

He was pushing the half-finished c*cktail away when he felt someone approach. He glanced at the man beside him, his eyes widening in surprise. 

It was like finding a pearl hidden in the mud. He was far more attractive than the bartender, his features well-proportioned, his body lean and toned. Even his clothes, a simple black shirt and dark jeans, fit him perfectly, accentuating his physique. 

As the man leaned closer, Bomin caught a whiff of his cologne, a strong, smoky scent that made his nose wrinkle. It was overpowering, artificial, a stark contrast to the subtle, almost natural scents of the male leads. 

He forced a smile, pushing down his initial annoyance, and met the man’s gaze. 

“Would you like to go to a private room? I have one reserved upstairs. It’s quiet there.”

He remembered the long flight of stairs leading down to the club. It seemed there were multiple levels, even though it was underground. He hesitated for a moment. 

Then he nodded, downing the rest of his c*cktail in one gulp. He needed a drink, and this one seemed strong enough to do the trick. 

The man, while making his intentions clear, had been polite, his touch light, his approach respectful. 

And besides, Bomin doubted he’d find anyone better in this crowd. 

“Right this way.” 

The man, pleased by his acquiescence, smiled, his hand brushing against Bomin’s arm as he led him towards the stairs. A guard stood by the entrance, just like at the main door. 

The man showed the guard his wrist, which was adorned with a fluorescent bracelet, and they were allowed to pass.

“I haven’t seen you here before. Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

Bomin was starting to wonder if he was cursed. Every man he met seemed to be a regular at these places, their faces familiar to the staff and other patrons. 

“I have some friends inside. Is that okay?” 

“Friends?” 

“Yeah. But they’re all with their partners. I’m the only one who’s single, so I came down to… look around.” 

He paused by a door marked with the number ‘4’, his expression hesitant. As if having friends inside was something to be embarrassed about. Bomin nodded, and the man opened the door, revealing a dimly lit room. 

Bomin’s jaw dropped. 

He finally understood the man’s earlier hesitation. The room, furnished with a large, U-shaped sofa, was filled with a cacophony of moans and gasps.

“Kim Hyungjun, did you find someone?”

So the man’s name was Kim Hyungjun. The voice belonged to a man sitting on the sofa, his arm wrapped around a smaller man, his hips thrusting rhythmically. 

“Yeah, Joonseo. I felt… awkward being the only one alone.” 

Bomin’s eyes narrowed. Kim Hyungjun was clearly intimidated by the man called Lee Joonseo. His shoulders were slumped, his gaze deferential, a stark contrast to his normally confident demeanor. 

“Hey, pull out for a second. Let me get a good look at him.”

“Hng… Don’t stop…”

The man on top of Lee Joonseo protested as he was pushed away. He whined, his arms clinging to Lee Joonseo’s neck as his erection slipped free. 

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the room, a jarring counterpoint to the symphony of moans and gasps. Two other men were engaged in similar activities, their bodies entangled on the sofa, their movements mirroring Lee Joonseo and his partner.

At the sound of Lee Joonseo’s voice, everything stopped.

A heavy silence descended, broken only by the whimpers of the man who had been thrown to the floor. 

“I said, pull out.”

Lee Joonseo stood up, his face impassive. The others watched him, their gazes wary, their movements frozen.

“He’s even better up close. Where did you find him, Hyungjun?”

Bomin shuddered as Lee Joonseo’s gaze raked over him, lingering on his face, his body. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was more like… revulsion. The kind of visceral disgust you’d feel if a particularly repulsive insect crawled onto your skin. 

He smelled strongly of cigarettes, his face was at least three times the size of Bomin’s, and a nose the size of a child’s fist dominated his features. 

He was hideously ugly, and his personality seemed to match his looks. 

Bomin’s gaze shifted to the man who was scrambling to his feet, his face pale, his movements hesitant. He looked young, almost boyish, his features surprisingly delicate. Bomin couldn’t understand why he was here, why he was letting Lee Joonseo touch him. 

His cheek was split, blood trickling down his chin, and one eye was swollen shut. He was clearly terrified of Lee Joonseo, his whimpers muffled, his gaze darting nervously. 

A darkness settled over Bomin’s eyes. 

“What’s your name? Come join us for a drink.” 

Lee Joonseo grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the sofa. Bomin resisted, digging his heels in, and Kim Hyungjun, who had been watching anxiously, gave him a shove.

“Scoot over.” 

Lee Joonseo pushed the others further into the sofa, making space for Bomin beside him. He tugged him down, his grip on his wrist bruising. 

Bomin stared at his wrist, at the point of contact, a wave of revulsion washing over him, cold and sharp. 

He hadn’t fought back against the male leads, even when they were rough, because he’d known it was his duty to Guide them. And because, in a way, he’d been drawn to them, their connection forged by the narrative of the novel.

But this man… this was different. This wasn’t a Guiding session. This was a violation, and it was turning his casual night out into a nightmare. 

“Why so quiet? What do you like to drink? We can order something else if you don’t see anything you like.” 

Lee Joonseo seemed to have taken a liking to him, chattering away despite Bomin’s stony silence. His hand slid from Bomin’s wrist to his fingers, tracing the delicate bones, before moving lower, his touch lingering on his inner thigh.

“Get your disgusting face away from me. And keep your filthy hands to yourself.”

Bomin slapped his hand away. But it was his own hand that stung Lee Joonseo’s skin, which was surprisingly tough. 

“See? This is why you shouldn’t be nice to pretty faces.”

“Ugh…”

Lee Joonseo’s hand shot out, grabbing his jaw, his fingers digging into the already bruised flesh. Bomin winced, the pain intensifying. 

He was certain now. Lee Joonseo wasn’t a normal human. While Espers could sense other ability users, Guides, unless they were high-ranking, couldn’t easily differentiate between ability users and ordinary humans. Like Bomin, they had to rely on instinct. 

“You’re… a Guide, aren’t you?”

Lee Joonseo’s lips twisted into a sneer, his features becoming even more grotesque.

“And a new face. Which means you’re not from our branch. And I know most of the A-rank Guides. So you must be… lower. Am I right?”

His deductions were surprisingly accurate. 

“Not afraid of getting… disciplined, are you?”

An Esper assaulting an ordinary human was grounds for disciplinary action. The same applied to Guides, unless it was consensual and part of a Guiding session.

“You think I’d get disciplined for something like this? It’s not like I killed him or crippled him.”

Bomin tried to pry Lee Joonseo’s hand away, but he was too strong. And too confident. He clearly had someone backing him. Most S-rank Espers were based in Seoul, at the main headquarters. 

A B-rank wouldn’t be this brazen, not even with connections. He was probably an A-rank Esper.

“The rest of you, get a separate room. I have… business to attend to.”

“But…”

Kim Hyungjun hesitated, his face pale, as the others scrambled to their feet. He seemed to feel a sense of responsibility for Bomin, for bringing him here. 

“Hyungjun, let’s switch partners. The one I was with… he’s not bad. Nice and tight.” 

The young man who’d been with Lee Joonseo froze, his hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood, the red droplets beading on his swollen flesh. 

“Okay…”

Kim Hyungjun, despite his imposing size, offered a weak, ingratiating smile and hurried out of the room. Joonseo’s grin widened, his cheekbones jutting out prominently, as they were left alone.

“I’m not usually into… forcing people. But you came here looking for fun, right? Guides are all the same. Can’t go a day without getting something shoved inside them.”

Bomin wanted to wash his ears out with soap. Lee Joonseo’s hand was still clamped on his jaw, his other thigh pressing down on Bomin’s legs, pinning him in place. 

His thigh was thick, a solid mass of muscle and flesh that was larger than both of Bomin’s thighs combined. 

“Just because you’re desperate… doesn’t mean you have to settle for anything. I have… standards.”