Chapter 108: Chapter 108

I opened my eyes to the sound of loud laughter.

It was the lobby sofa.

On either side of me, Kim Yunho and Park Geonwoo were jabbering away.

Right in front sat Han Seoho and Jeong Hamin, and next to them the Newbie with Lee Gangjun, all chattering.

Han Seoho laughed like an idiot, even clapping his hands at something, and for once the Newbie was babbling on too.

“Why, you insolent brat! How dare you, with such impudence!”

Park Geonwoo scolded Kim Yunho in that same ridiculous sageuk accent.

“Ohhh, forgive me, sir.”

Kim Yunho played along.

“I told you, I’m the Crown Prince!”

“Isn’t a Crown Prince still ‘sir’?”

The two bickered, then broke into giggles.

“Oh! The bastard’s finally awake. Hey, what were you doing, hibernating?”

Kim Yunho noticed me stir and slapped my back.

The sound was loud but not painful at all.

“Still drunk, drunk as ever. Why do you sleep so much?”

This time Park Geonwoo grabbed my shoulder and shook me.

“Oi, Dolsoe. Get up and fetch me a bowl of water. I’ll have a bowl of rice ready for you.”

He cracked jokes in that stilted historical dialect, turning it on me too.

“Hey, hyung, why’s he Dolsoe while I’m Mongrel?”

Kim Yunho picked a fight over names again, and the two fell back into another squabble.

It wasn’t serious at all—light, almost playful bickering.

Everyone else looked fine. Why was I the only one dizzy ?

While I reeled, I realized something was in my hand.

Iced coffee. The ice had melted so much the paper holder was damp.

Naturally, I lifted the straw to my lips and gulped.

At once, my head snapped clear.

My blurred vision sharpened, the muffled voices around me came into focus.

I sucked the coffee down like a starving beast.

When I crunched through the last of the ice, energy surged through me. I felt like I could fly.

And I couldn’t stop laughing.

No. I’ll just go get it.

I jumped up and shouted.

Everyone’s hand shot up.

Swaggering like I was paying out of my own pocket, I strode toward the unmanned café.

The hallway rose and dipped like a carnival ride. I spread my arms for balance.

Then I started making airplane noises, pretending to fly.

That alone cracked me up.

Somehow Kim Yunho had followed, and he flew beside me, another plane in formation.

At the café, we both downed two cups each on the spot before even drawing coffee for the team.

“Where’s the carrier? Fuck, my hands are shaking so bad—kehh hehh. Fun as hell.”

I got annoyed, then instantly delighted again, dancing with my upper and lower body. I even grabbed Yunho’s hands and twirled into a sloppy blues.

Even after three cups, I kept one for myself as I hauled the coffee back out.

“This rules! I wanna live here forever!”

Yunho shouted, buzzing.

“Me too, I’ll live here forever!”

“Why not. Let’s do it.”

He’ll make it so. For him, we must.

We traded a knowing, furtive glance.

Our eyes flicked toward each other’s swollen tits—sucked by him, swollen from being sucked. We smirked, lewd.

That was when I finally noticed we were both naked.

The moment I realized, every cell in my body lit awake.

Even air brushing my skin now made my legs buckle with arousal. But there was nothing left to spill. Yunho, who bragged about being full of water, was the same—spent dry.

As we walked we kept stopping, seized by orgasm, panting, quivering. Shame never entered.

At last, we reached the team and handed out coffee.

“Hyung’s tits are the biggest.”

Han Seoho, eyes {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} full of envy, pointed at Park Geonwoo’s chest. His own were decent—fairly big and shapely—but he still envied.

Mine, though... these...

So swollen it felt like something had been injected inside. I should have thought it strange, but it didn’t feel strange at all.

They swelled because he sucked them. They swelled by his magic.

I thought that, awash in gratitude.

All seven spread their legs and sank into the sofa. Almost at once, every limb shook as they peaked.

No jerking off, no one sucking them—yet each tasted ultimate ecstasy. Breathless moans, lewd cries, then collapsing to the floor, some rolling on the carpet.

Watching each other, they all burst out laughing.

The moment I thought it, bottles of mineral water appeared in stacks.

I drank until my belly bulged, then climaxed again, and this time I spilled.

Though I’d been emptied dry, though there should’ve been nothing left, clear fluid spurted from my small, hideous cock. I shivered watching it.

“I hope it was to your taste.”

The Professor, humble in tone, searched for Gwak Hoon’s mood.

Gwak Hoon answered with his teacup.

“I did put a lot of care into it—how was it?”

Interpreting the silence as displeasure, the Professor fidgeted nervously.

That was Gwak Hoon’s judgment, as he savored the tea.

His tongue was still sweet. Because he’d just had honey and condensed milk.

Sailor 1, honey. Sailor 2, condensed milk. Sailor 3, honey again. Round and round, he tasted all seven’s tits. Sweet, soft, fresh, taut—the sensation still clung vividly to his tongue.

He ran his tongue across his mouth, recalling the last one he’d sucked.

So like Yeonseo—those tits were truly the finest.

Many misread Gwak Hoon’s obsession with tits.

It wasn’t breasts he fixated on, but the nipples of strong, masculine men. Muscular, well-built, undeniably manly, masculine to the bone—those were the only tits he desired.

And the pinnacle of that taste was Yeonseo.

Ahh. How foolish, to go over a year without sucking the tits I used to take whenever I pleased.

The younger ones tasted different. Every bit of them was fresh. Their beauty, their balance—youth gave them wings.

The sweetness rose not from honey or milk, but from flesh itself. The texture was singular.

This was why people sought live fish—the texture.

He sipped tea and recalled them in order from Number 1.

Number 1 was the best. Out of the seven, his tits were second-best in form and beauty, but his muscle mass was smaller, so Gwak Hoon had been half skeptical.

But the instant he bit down, the fit was shockingly perfect. Volume wasn’t everything. Small peppers are the hottest. There was a reason his grandson kept sucking and sucking.

So delicious, he nearly burst Number 1’s tits—and laughed to himself.

“You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

Seeing his smile, the Professor carefully asked again.

“Of course. Who do you think crafted them?”

At that, the Professor’s face finally lit up.

He straightened his hunched shoulders, lifted his cup.

“This tea is exquisite, Chairman.”

He praised even before sipping.

He lacked confidence.

Never had Gwak Hoon seen a man with more skill than the Professor, yet here he was, cowering.

“You’re a master. Hold your pride.”

“Ahh, Chairman, you flatter me.”

The Professor laughed, waving his hand. He spilled tea down his own suit in the process.

Gwak Hoon clicked his tongue and handed over a handkerchief.

“Thank you, Chairman.”

The Professor bowed low, both hands taking it.

“Were the devices your own design?”

Munching yokan, he asked.

“What design? Just tweaks on what was already there.”

“That is design. Making the ordinary special isn’t easy. I couldn’t even imagine it.”

Of course he’d thought of it himself. The Professor was as perverted as they came. The difference was whether you actually used them.

Gwak Hoon had been using such tools for over forty years, refining them through discomfort, evolving them into the present devices. Yeonseo had been one of their greatest beneficiaries.

Jade and Amber might have been, too.

They were in the middle of nipple development, after the tattoos, adapting at last to the classes—when Yeonseo’s jealousy burned too bright, and the boys ended up as ashes.

Never seeing them climax on nipple stimulation alone—that was Gwak Hoon’s eternal regret.

If only he’d stopped Yeonseo, would the three still live?

No. Yeonseo didn’t have that kind of restraint.

It was only a matter of time. Read complete versıon only at 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁

Still—he should have dragged it out, pushed all the way, then discarded Yeonseo. Too late now.

“When shall we schedule the next class?”

The Professor rubbed his hands together.

Two hundred million won per student. One class netted him 1.4 billion.

Four sessions for Sailor 1, five for the others—that was already 6.8 billion. Plus a fifty-million bonus for preparing the sensitivity test.

And still he wanted more.

“If we push it, their tits will give out.”

He scratched his head.

“Now is best. Let’s preserve it.”

“Yes, yes. Quite right. This is the peak.”

He played up his agreement.

“You’ve done well, Professor Park.”

“No, no, Chairman, anytime, anytime you call.”

He bowed almost to the table.

“So then, um... the bonus—when might I...?”

Gambling debts in the billions, wasn’t it?

Gwak Hoon hadn’t looked closely, but he knew.

Still, he roamed every gambling den across the country—casino, card rooms, everything. Always more debt.

The Professor was just one tip of the iceberg. Among those pouring themselves into the Project, not one was clean. Money was always the problem. That was by design—he picked them so he could grip and twist them at will.

Gwak Hoon let the silence stretch.

“One more thing. Will you do it with me?”

“What... sort of thing?”

At his hedging, Gwak Hoon’s face showed mild disappointment. The Professor caught himself.

“Of course! Absolutely. Whatever you command, Chairman.”

Gwak Hoon smiled, satisfied, and beckoned him closer.

The Professor nearly knelt before him as he came close.

Gwak Hoon smiled benevolently, and whispered his plan.

The Professor’s eyes went wide.