Content Warning: Mild NSFW (dubcon)

At a small studio in downtown P— City, the site where the holiday movie It’s a Wunderbar Life was being filmed, the crew had departed for the evening. The parking lot, which earlier had been packed with cars and trailers, was now empty—save for one black van sitting in a remote, shadowy parking spot. 

This was none other than the black van that Manager Wei had been chauffeuring our ungrateful cast around in since chapter 4. But if the studio was already locked up with all the lights shut off, where was Manager Wei? 

From the black van, there came a stifled moan. A pair of pigeons sleeping in a nearby tree popped their sleepy heads up and stared at each other awkwardly. 

Pigeon A: …Coo coo? (Translation: …Was that you just now?)

Pigeon B: Coo?! Coo coo coo! Coo. (Translation: Are you kidding me?! It’s some human in that van below us! C’mon, let’s get out of here. 

Pigeon A: Coo! Coooo! (Translation: For shame! This is a public space!)

The two pigeons spread their wings and took off flying in search of a better sleeping perch. They didn’t fail to leave behind two unsightly poo-marks on the van’s windshield. 

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Inside the black van, Holland was lounging in the backseat, staring out the window. A cell phone was cradled to his ear, ringing nonstop. 

Holland, who was ordinarily smiley wherever he went, was wearing an uncharacteristically stoic expression. Most of his body was doused in shadows; only a thin beam of gentle moonlight threw his messy bleached hair into visibility. The curve of his neck and collarbone glistened with a sheen of sweat, and he was breathing fast, as if he had just gotten back from a late-night run.

Tap-tap-tap-tap. His fingers drumming impatiently on the van’s door made it clear that this was a serious phone call.

After another bout of futile ringing, Holland was abruptly kicked over to a voicemail recording: “Yo, it’s Mikhail! If I’m not picking up, it’s probably because I don’t wanna talk to you, hahahahahahaha—beeeep.” 

“Mikki, darling, why the cold shoulder…” Holland sighed. 

For a moment, his eyelids sunk, as if he were being lulled into a stupor by some melody only he could hear. He wet his lips. Then, cracking his eyes back open, he pulled up his phone’s messaging app.

He scanned his most recent text exchange with Mikhail. Evidence that he’d previously been blocked was the automated response: Sorry, your message cannot be delivered to this number. 

Holland pensively scrolled through their past conversations, his analytical brain teasing out a new strategy. He was interested in Mikhail. True, he was coming on strong. But why should it matter whether Mikhail was interested in him back? Feelings were fickle and could be changed. He didn’t plan on giving up. 

Neither did he plan on having the answer drop directly into his lap. 

A few minutes ago, completely out of the blue, he had received an image attachment from Mikhail. It was a selfie of himself smiling goofily, framing his face with a pair of “v” fingers. Beside him on a couch was the unsmiling Shen Dan. 

If anyone else had seen this selfie, they would have noticed nothing amiss with Shen Dan’s expression. He was an aloof person, averse to fun and games. They would assume Mikhail was playing a prank and had found some way to rope Shen Dan into it. 

Holland’s roving eyes settled on Shen Dan’s hand gripping Mikhail’s waist. 

How obvious, Holland chuckled to himself. Like a child with a new toy, unwilling to share. 

He yawned. Feeling bored, he was about to dial Mikhail’s number again when his screen popped up with a text message: 

> Did you know: Due to the potential risks for food-borne illness associated with undercooked meats (such as salmonella and E. coli) it is recommended for hamburgers to be cooked to an internal temperature of 71°C! Wowie! 🍔

“Ah, Benny, these stupid hamburger facts keep hounding me… Show me how to block them when you’re finished, will you?”

There came a muffled reply: “Do ith yourthelf…”

Holland’s eyes fell to the spot in between his legs. Looking closer, one could see that his pants were unzipped. As for the monstrous thing hanging out, it was completely shadowed in darkness. Only someone’s hand gripping Holland’s thigh indicated that a person was crouched there, hard at work. 

Holland’s smile widened like a fox’s. “Tsk, tsk. What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?” 

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Out of the shadows, a disheveled head lifted. 

“I’m not your servant!” Manager Wei shouted, spitting something out of his mouth. There were tears staining the corners of his eyes. “I told you, you have to respect me!”

“Ben—Manager Wei, I mean,” Holland soothed, pressing the other’s face back into his crotch. “I do respect you. Your skills with that tongue especially are soooo impressive~”

Manager Wei balled his hands into fists and let out a sob. “How did it come to this… I’m almost forty, I’m too old for this…” 

Holland patted the man’s cheek, helpfully asking, “Is your back hurting you again? We can try a different position.”

Manager Wei: “…”

This guy really knew how to “respect” his elders.

“Oh. And by the way, there’s something else I need your help with,” Holland added, tickling Manager Wei’s ear. 

Like a cornered animal, Manager Wei shrank into a ball. 

“If I’m not mistaken, I think Shen-ge’s filming schedule is about to become much, much busier. Too busy to keep hanging out with that PA of his. You catch my meaning?”

Holland kept playing with Manager Wei’s ear. Eventually, Manager Wei hung his head in defeat. He peeped out a shriveled “okay.”

“Good boy~ Now finish what you started.” Smiling, Holland petted Manager Wei at the top of his head, then leaned back. 

Lewd sounds soon filled up the silence in the black van. As Holland took one final glance at the selfie of Mikhail and Shen Dan together, his rated-X imagination flew off the reins.  

Now then, let’s see if that rude little beast can be taught how to share… 

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Back at the Shen Residence, a similar rated-X scenario seemed to be in the works. Of course, rather than having nefarious intentions, Shen Dan was only doing his due diligence fulfilling his punishment for having lost the game of Truth or Dare with Mikhail. 

As for Mikhail’s perspective on what was happening, it can be summed up as follows: 

> Mikhail encountered a wild Shen Dan!

> The wild Shen Dan used STRIP. 

> It’s super effective! 

> What will Mikhail do?

> ▶ [ RUN ]

> …

> Got away safely! 

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Mikhail had checked off a total of seven boxes on the bingo sheet in just under an hour. Victory was at hand. Unfortunately, a few crucial wires in his brain must have gotten crossed at some point during the evening—because the reason he was curled up in bed feeling jittery with excitement had nothing to do with returning to the world (alive).

Rather, it had everything to do with Shen Dan. 

Spreading your legs for me just like that—must you be so casual about it?! Isn’t it obvious I don’t have any experience with this kind of thing? Doing this and that, and that and this, I need time to search the internet on how to do it well at least, okay?! 

Suddenly, Mikhail paused. He cocooned himself even more deeply into his quilt. 

Wait… Since when did he become so willing?

It wasn’t that Mikhail found the idea of (bleep) inherently repulsive. In fact, in his spare time, he admittedly liked to read webtoons featuring, ahem, “lightsabers,” and he had even committed to memory a few sound effects in Hangul. But these stories always felt like pure fantasy. When it came to real life, he assumed he would eventually get a girlfriend. 

To identify as “questioning” when he was just playing around with books and comics for fun—wasn’t it a little disrespectful?

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¿Por qué no los dos?

¡Cómo puedo saber si nunca lo he probado!

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Either way, though, the sight of Shen Dan’s pants sliding down his thighs had undeniably been pleasing to look at…

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Eventually the clock struck midnight. 

After uncomfortably tossing and turning in the sheets for hours, Mikhail finally caved and gave Mikhail Jr. some attention. Having worked up a sweat, he fell asleep almost instantaneously.  

Dead to the world, he didn’t hear the thermostat clicking on, didn’t hear the muffled honking of geese migrating overhead, didn’t hear the cars rolling by outside his window.  

Neither did he hear the sound of footsteps lingering outside his door, softly padding away.  

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He dreamed vividly. 

In his dream, Mikhail was actually still in his bed at Shen Dan’s house. The dream was very realistic, causing him to only feel like he had woken up in the middle of the night. The golden halo and 2D wings had popped out of his System’s inventory and were now hovering in their respective spots, casting a warm glow upon the walls and floor. 

Suddenly, the window flew open of its own accord. A gust of freezing air caused Mikhail’s bedsheets to fly back. He gaped as a winged person dressed in tattered robes and chains climbed through the window and landed on the floor in front of him.

The intruder dusted off the front of his robes, straightened up, and crossed his arms. His eyebrows formed a “v,” lips pulled into a grimace. Sighing, he folded his white feathered wings back like a majestic swan.

“Hello, Little Mikhail. I see you’re still playing around with that halo of mine.”

Mikhail: (°ロ°)

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> Mikhail encountered a wild Gabriel!

> What will Mikhail do?

> ▶ [ RUN ]

> …

> Can’t escape!