Substitute
Chapter 61

Day 7

In the late hours of the night, when everyone else was asleep, several masked men moved in and out of the building.

Starting with the restricted-access rooftop on the third floor, they moved through various training rooms on the first floor and into hidden rooms on basement levels two and three, working diligently on internal maintenance.

Even though the repair order had come down suddenly, the masked men moved with synchronized precision under the manager’s supervision.

"Not that way—over here."

"Make sure the camera isn't blocked. A little more to the right. That’s it."

"No, the angle's wrong."

The only one speaking was the manager in a suit; the masked workers communicated with gestures and silent signals.

"This is Black 1, requesting camera check."

As each room was ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) reconfigured, the manager consulted HQ through radio, adjusting the placement of equipment, props, and furniture.

The most important thing in this building was that the crew’s movements could be clearly seen—anytime, anywhere, from any angle. So, even if it took time, he had no choice but to coordinate with HQ in real time, adjusting each detail with minute precision.

Cameras weren’t just mounted on ceilings and walls. They were embedded between tables, in bed headboards, side tables, liquor bottles—even dildos. Ultra-compact CCTVs, the kind used in spy ops, acted as the manager’s eyes and ears.

In the middle of the repair work, suspicious movement was caught inside the building. The security unit in charge of surveillance responded immediately.

"Security Team 1, this is HQ3. HQ3. We’ll handle this. Stand down."

The order came through the radio, clearly and decisively.

The guards, who had nearly reached the intruder, silently withdrew.

A shadow had paused upon hearing their footsteps and ducked into one of the training rooms. Five minutes later, it emerged again, carefully stepping outside.

The figure was stark naked, face covered only with a towel. It seemed they’d avoided even throwing on a gown in order to conceal their identity.

The manager first checked the log of each crew member’s dorm room access.

Nothing unusual.

Next, he monitored all twenty-nine crew rooms. But surveillance wasn’t especially meaningful—over half were buried under blankets, and more than one was curled up like a shrimp. Which meant there was no way to tell whether what was under those blankets was a person, a bathrobe, or a pillow.

Pending.

While the manager reviewed the logs, the security captain kept real-time eyes on the shadow.

"Not a sailor."

Since the figure was naked, it was immediately clear he wasn’t one of the sailors. There was no tattoo on his chest.

That left either the Wild Dogs or one of the guards. Twenty-two suspects in total.

No tattoos on the chest—or anywhere else. That ruled out the twelve who were inked. But since it was possible someone had covered up their tattoos with medical tape, more confirmation was needed.

One by one, they began narrowing down the list of suspects.

"What the hell is he doing?"

The security captain let out a snort while watching the CCTV feed with the manager.

The shadow’s movements were strange. Silly. Almost like a dance.

"Drunk?"

"Only non-alcoholic stuff here, though."

"Who knows. Maybe he swiped some methanol from the clinic."

"Oh, right. That happened a couple years ago, didn’t it?"

"Don’t even remind me. Everyone went completely insane because someone dosed them too hard. Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it."

The security captain shivered.

Even as the two of them chatted, the strange movements continued on the screen.

But the manager’s amused expression gradually stiffened.

The figure wasn’t acting clumsily. He was trained.

"Looks like a rat."

The manager spoke to the security captain.

A sharp gleam lit the captain’s eyes.

He nodded slowly, watching for ten more minutes before coming to a conclusion.

Definitely a rat.

"Contact Manager Kim."

"Yes, sir."

3:30 a.m. The first rat of the Paradise Project had been spotted.

Uncovering the rat’s identity was no big deal.

But deciding when to reveal it, and when to catch him—that was entirely up to the people above.

Until then, all they could do was watch.

****

At first, it was space. He was flying through the pitch-black void, gazing at stars glowing in the distance.

His body felt impossibly light. He flipped in ways he’d never managed before, spun in circles, swam.

He let out a delighted scream.

Then the scene shifted. Jiwon was swimming in the open sea. But he wasn’t afraid at all. The water was warm and smooth; the breeze blowing across it was gentle.

He floated on his back, staring at the sun, then suddenly flipped over. There was no one to race, but he began paddling furiously through the water.

And then—yanked downward.

Someone had grabbed his ankle under the water.

The pull was so strong he panicked, sucked into the sea.

The clear, clean water darkened, like ink spilled through it. Space hadn’t been like this—the ocean was terrifying.

He trembled in fear, tried to shake off what was clutching his ankle. But he just kept sinking deeper.

Glug, glug.

He was out of breath.

This is it, I’m going to die.

Jiwon flailed, twisting his body, trying to pry off the hand still gripping his ankle. He curled himself into a ball, peeled off the fingers one by one until—

Their eyes met.

It was him.

Those bloodshot eyes glaring at Jiwon were terrifying.

“Ahhh!”

He screamed, thrashed wildly.

The siren woke him. Only then did he realize it was a dream. And even so, he kept swatting at his ankle, goosebumps rising as if someone were still holding on.

His ankle ached.

Jiwon sat dazed on his bed for a while.

What if that kid really resents me? Even if it was just a dream, it left a mark.

I’m here for you. I came to get revenge for you—why are you looking at me like that?

He wanted to ask.

Then he shook his head.

It was just a nightmare brought on by the drugs. There was no need to give it meaning. That was the rational conclusion.

No time to sit around.

Jiwon moved so he wouldn’t be late.

He must’ve fallen asleep without even pulling the covers over himself. His half-erect cock dangled as he went to the bathroom to relieve himself, then looked in the mirror.

Oh. Right. The tanning.

Looking at himself now, he felt just as strange as he had the first time he saw his reflection after entering this place.

He looked healthier, more vibrant than ever.

And honestly, he didn’t feel bad. Apart from the nightmare and a slightly raspy throat, his body felt light.

He studied himself in the mirror a moment longer, then stepped under the shower.

While rinsing off with lukewarm water, his hand moved to his chest without thinking. Curiosity stirred.

The drugs should be out of my system. Will it still work?

Only one way to find out.

Just like the professor had done, he traced the still-swollen areola with two fingers.

It didn’t feel like it had in the clinic yesterday. But unlike before, there was a strange heat rising through his body. Even though it was a fake tattooed areola, it felt real.

He slid his fingers lower, brushing the real one—and bent forward.

“Ahh... hhng.”

A moan escaped his lips. His legs trembled. Just that light touch triggered a shock like someone had gripped his cock and squeezed.

His brain, overwhelmed by sensation, stopped working. His hand moved on its own, grabbing his dick. Right before he tightened his grip, Jiwon snapped back to his senses and yanked his hand away, finishing the shower with cold water.

Fucking idiot.

He cursed himself for nearly screwing everything up by jerking off.

That kid didn’t show up in the dream for nothing.

It must’ve been a warning—not to get distracted by stimulation. To focus.

Jiwon decided to believe that.

As soon as he got out of the shower, an overwhelming hunger hit him. The untouched night snack from yesterday looked like a feast. He scarfed it all down—more than he usually could stomach—and only then did the hunger subside.

Realizing too late that he’d spilled sauce on his clothes, he quickly changed.

Finally—it was the last day of abstinence week.

Everyone’s faces lit up. The tanning had made the crew look healthier and more energetic, but it wasn’t just the darker skin tones.

These were people who, out in society, couldn’t go a day without sex. And they’d gone a whole week. No small feat.

"When I opened my eyes this morning, the whole world looked different."

Kim Yunho was nearly in tears.

"Starting tomorrow, we can do it!"

Park Geonwoo threw his hands up in joy.

On the way to the fitness room, some of the crew had already started figuring out their sex order—who’d go first. Park Geonwoo was whispering nonstop with Gwak Chan, and Kim Yunho struck up a conversation with Number 11.

Han Seoho, of course, got bombarded with offers. Even walking with his usual clique, he had to stop often thanks to someone blocking his way.

And Jiwon?

No one.

A few crew members he’d spoken with—Choi Minjae, Nam Gyuwon—gave him polite nods. That was it.

Son Geonwoo, who’d once threatened him to suck him off first, was nowhere to be seen. Number 3 wasn’t with the group either.

It didn’t hurt his pride, exactly. But... it was a little disappointing.

He knew his cock was a problem.

Especially in a place like this, where everything was based on appearances. Outside of the main Party, crew members only had one week. Just a week to fuck the fittest partners they could find. Of course no one had time to waste on him.

That was the reason he hadn’t had proper sex since the accident. Honestly, if it weren’t for this program, he might never have gotten hard or come again. His confidence had bottomed out long ago.

Still.

For something he came in prepared for, this ending felt too flat.

"Were you waiting for me?"

His disappointment was short-lived. A familiar voice called to him.

Number 3 had somehow come up close, smiling down at him.

"Who said I was waiting?"

Jiwon tried to act indifferent—

"You’re a terrible liar. It’s obvious."

Number 3 teased him.

"This is a damn circus."

He looked around, clicking his tongue.

"How many people do you have booked, Sailor?"

He asked like it was the most natural question in the world.

"That’s, uh, why would you..."

"Haven’t you heard the rumor?"

Raising an eyebrow, he added,

"I went door to door last night, warning everyone—if they touch my Sailor, I’ll kill them."

A dry joke.

"Not funny. Let’s just go work out."

Jiwon answered bluntly and turned on his heel.

Inside, though, he was smiling. Damn kid knew exactly what to say.

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