Chapter 19: The Butterfly

“Mmph—.”

“Posture.”

To define his sexual preference, Seonwoo was a sadist. One could say it was the only time he applied his perfectionism to others—he enjoyed training submissives to his taste. From hard play to soft, he particularly liked taming undeveloped subs to fit his preferences.

If he were to describe his ideal type, it would be a small, cute-looking kitten completely ignorant of this world. Yeryeong, whom he’d briefly set his sights on during college, was that type. For Seonwoo, who had playfully—or with a hint of genuine interest—drawn several ordinary people into this world, the fact that they were ordinary was never an obstacle.

Nevertheless, the reason he couldn’t openly seduce and had to show only his bright side was because of an unspoken agreement with his friends. Perhaps that’s why Seonwoo still occasionally thought with regret: he should have just snatched him up.

“Exactly 15 minutes have passed, but you dared to break your posture, so time added.”

“Ooh—, ah-ah-ah—.”

“…5 minutes. I’m short on time, so I’ll let it slide at that. But if you show impatience one more time, you’d better be prepared.”

He liked training, but a sub with no results was useless. The pretty sub with the restraint gag in his mouth trembled as he strained his body.

Seonwoo, who had impressive credentials even by ordinary standards, was popular among those in the lifestyle—he’d never lacked for partners. Adorable subs eager to be trained by him had always approached him through various channels. He simply chose one that caught his eye.

The duration of his relationships varied—sometimes short, sometimes long, depending on his whims. He saw one person at a time, or managed multiple. He didn’t discriminate by gender, but if pressed, he leaned toward men—he liked the humiliated expressions they made instinctively when overpowered by another male.

“Can… can we meet again next time?”

“Sorry. I’m not planning to take on a partner for the foreseeable future.”

Perhaps moved by being held and soothed after the scene, bathed by hand, and having medicine applied, the other person clung to him adorably with lovesick eyes. They’d matched well in play style, and considering their looks—quite high even in this circle—in the past he might have given them his private contact. But unfortunately, Seonwoo’s attention was currently fixed on one place. On the stray cat who at this very moment was probably humming some unidentified self-composed song while cooking—Jinho.

He’d apparently been a junior in the same college club—so unremarkable that Seonwoo, who prided himself on his memory, couldn’t even recall him. Aside from looking young enough that Seonwoo initially thought he was a high school student, Jinho was nothing special—truly like a stray cat. To add, he was far from Seonwoo’s strike zone.

The trigger for Seonwoo’s interest in Jinho was the expression he made when feeling pain. He seemed sensitive to pain—his eyes would quickly well up, yet he’d stubbornly try to pass it off as nothing. That stubbornness was unexpectedly adorable. So he’d deliberately pressed on the wound to gauge his reaction. And when he met those eyes that seemed to scold him while swallowing a yelp—his switch flipped.

Fortunately, Jinho seemed rather dense—even when Seonwoo’s tone and atmosphere changed, he only focused on the pain, giving an adorable yet disappointing reaction. It was entertaining to see dramatic responses to his deliberate mischief, but even when he applied medicine as gently as possible, Jinho’s body flinched from the sting—and Seonwoo couldn’t help almost getting half-hard.

Seonwoo, feeling the need to compose himself from the intense excitement he’d never experienced before, sent Jinho to the next room—but his excitement didn’t easily subside. If the instigator hadn’t come and completely ruined that mood, Seonwoo would surely have given in to impulse.

“A maid uniform… Haha, what a shame.”

After sending Jinho away, Seonwoo shook his head, thinking of the only bastards in this estate who would pull such pranks. If it had even slightly been his taste, he would have played along—but unfortunately, this one wasn’t at all.

The only thing he’d liked about what he saw earlier was Kim Jinho’s expression. Seonwoo recalled that expression again and laughed heartily for the first time in a while. Ah—, that was truly a sight to behold. That so blatantly disgusted face.

Even after that day, “those bastards'” pranks didn’t stop—but whether intentional or not, the outfits were all designs that didn’t suit Seonwoo’s taste, so he had them thrown away under the guise of mix-ups. And each time, Jinho came to protest with that same disgusted face, then obediently followed instructions—adorable and fascinating.

“I wonder if the butterfly believes everything I say…”

If similar incidents repeated that many times, one might grow suspicious—but Jinho only came to protest with that chewed-on expression, never questioning the events themselves. That seemingly innocent yet clever aspect made Seonwoo even more interested in him.

Objectively speaking, Jinho wasn’t the type of person Seonwoo would usually pay this much attention to. Finding it strange that he kept looking, Seonwoo initially thought it was due to recent stress—so he visited clubs he’d been neglecting, even met up with former partners, and enjoyed a dissolute lifestyle for the first time in a while.

But curiously and frustratingly, right around 7 o’clock, the image of Jinho greeting him in that maid outfit would surface—and everything else became boring. It wasn’t unsightly, but it wasn’t exactly flattering either—yet that “I’m going to die of embarrassment” expression stimulated his darker desires.

That day had been particularly eventful—as if trying to stop him from mentioning that outfit.

Even afterward, whenever Seonwoo brought it up, Jinho would blush, put force into his eyes, and warn him to drop it already. And each time, seeing that threatening expression that only looked adorable, Seonwoo just smiled—wondering if Jinho really thought he’d be scared into stopping.

Seonwoo increasingly thought Jinho was like a cat. A stray cat unbroken by anyone, untrained—everything about him awkward and lacking. This was just his intuition, but from some point onward, the Jinho he called “Butterfly” seemed starved for affection too.

That suspicion became certainty when he saw Jinho—who would stubbornly argue when pressured—turn red-faced and obediently listen to gentle, coaxing words.

Never having been interested in this type before, Seonwoo found Jinho’s reactions novel and entertaining. And above all, Jinho felt like a pet worth teaching step by step. He wasn’t stupid—once told, he rarely forgot. Even when things were difficult or uncomfortable and he got annoyed, he’d watch Seonwoo’s reaction and try to correct himself. And despite his apparent pride, he wasn’t stiff—when something was truly beyond him, he’d timidly come over and act spoiled, asking for help.

Seonwoo admitted he was generally kind, but not endlessly lenient—yet unlike with his ex-lovers or subs, he found himself indulging Jinho’s timid spoiled moments.

“‘The butterfly pouting and reaching out his hand is cute, but a master pushed around by his pet—how unbecoming.'”

Even as he thought that, Seonwoo was smiling broadly.

He decided to take it slow. The start might have been soft, but Jinho wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Recalling the housekeeper employment contract, Seonwoo thought 8 hours a day was plenty of time. Though he didn’t know the details, Jinho seemed to have lived a lonely, affection-starved life like a stray cat—so he wanted to treat him as gently and kindly as possible. To do that, he’d have to suppress his hot-tempered nature in the beginning—but Butterfly made that worry easy to resolve. He’d thrown his first rebellion at just the right time.

From Seonwoo’s perspective, Jinho seemed to think of himself as a strong male. And true to his self-image, Butterfly didn’t like being taken care of by another male—so he rebelled.

Jinho was adorable when asserting himself while still being cautious—but having seized the opportunity, Seonwoo wasn’t about to let it go. He knew that if he’d spoken kindly from the start, Jinho would have obeyed without much resistance—but he deliberately used the word “fired” with a coercive tone. And as expected, Butterfly got angry and retaliated with misplaced pride.

When Seonwoo hardened his expression, Jinho untied the strings even more roughly, as if trying to hide his fear. Curious how he’d react when intimidated, Seonwoo walked right up to him. Looking down from the height difference, Jinho’s hands began to tremble from the extra tension.

‘Do it again.’

Seonwoo suppressed his satisfaction and deliberately pointed it out in an even colder tone. Jinho flinched at the unfamiliar coldness, his nervous hands trembling as he made clumsy, fumbling movements.

Seonwoo lightly struck the back of Jinho’s hand, thinking a stronger push might make him act spoiled and say he couldn’t do it. But targeting his sensitivity to pain only fueled Jinho’s pride further—he stubbornly kept his mouth clamped shut and moved his fingers until his hand was red and swollen. Soon, droplets of water spotted the floor.

He hadn’t expected “I was wrong.” If Jinho had simply asked how to do it, he would have treated him kindly as desired. Seonwoo thought this as he looked down at Jinho, who was silently crying with his lips tightly pressed together.

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