Chapter 31

Motels that do good business are all the same.

Even if they say the soundproofing is good, in the end, the rooms are all crammed together like villas, so big and small moans leak out.

It’s no wonder there’s a saying that motels that do good business secretly film couples having s*x with hidden cameras and make extra money.

Of course, a good a*ult wouldn’t believe in such urban legends. Believing only what you see is the truth and justice.

I have a smartphone, but I’m not a hidden camera pervert who secretly films other people’s s*x, and I always carry a recorder, but I’m not a pervert who records other people’s moans.

I just want to finish my personal business before S Man’s S-pen crosses the point of no return.

“Hmm.”

With that mindset, I stood in front of room 701, but I was a little embarrassed by the thumping sounds and thin moans that could be felt even beyond the thick door.

Poor guy.

“I know you’re in there. If you open the door now, I’ll take pity on you and write a petition to Jesus myself and send it to him. If you don’t open the door, I’ll play Epic Sax Guy with a vuvuzela. To the rhythm of your waist shaking up and down.”

These days, Daiso sells a variety of items so that it doesn’t lose its market share to convenience stores.

If convenience stores pursue extreme convenience, Daiso pursues extreme diversity, selling imported goods indiscriminately.

I regularly visit Daiso to buy miscellaneous items, and just yesterday I saw a vuvuzela and bought one.

If you ask me why I bought such a thing, I don’t have a good answer. Why? F*ck, I just bought it because I thought it would be fun to blow it.

I licked my dry lips with my tongue and took out the vuvuzela I had hidden in my coat like a gun. As expected of a cheap thing from Daiso, it was a plastic, assembly-type vuvuzela, so it was easy to carry around.

The moment my mouth touched the mouthpiece of the vuvuzela, the tightly locked door of room 701 clicked open from the inside.

As I entered with the vuvuzela in one hand, there was no sticky air naturally heated by the s*x between a man and a woman.

Instead, a cold wind with a fishy smell swept over my body. As I lightly brushed my shoulders with my hand, the fishy smell disappeared instantly.

“The act of brushing your shoulders is a basic act of warding off evil, commonly called a means. I understand you’re angry that I interrupted your precious time, but you shouldn’t be annoyed at first sight.”

Even though the fishy smell disappeared just by lightly brushing my shoulders, the cold air that seemed to weigh down my entire body remained. I had no choice but to open my support belt and sprinkle the coarse salt I had wrapped in a plastic bag around me.

The coarse salt scattered randomly on the floor and walls popped and turned brown like popcorn cooked over high heat. The white salt didn’t just turn brown, but soon turned completely dead black.

Of course, you’d be p*ssed if you were interrupted during s*x. I don’t know that feeling because I grew up without parents who would barge in while I was jerking off, but I know it’s a very rude thing to do morally.

But what’s more important than a huge book of culture built on morality is ultimately a verse from Jesus.

No matter how much you talk about all kinds of hypocritical and pretentious morality, would it be more valuable than a word from Jesus who sacrificed himself once for all mankind?

As I walked inside, sprinkling salt, the inside of the room, which was hidden by the bathroom entrance, came into view.

Embarrassingly, a naked woman and a man were panting, their bodies intertwined, but seeing S Man slumped over the woman, as if leaning on her, I could tell he had used up a lot of energy in that short time.

“Was S Man’s S-pen actually the S for Short?”

You sure did c*m a lot.

Approaching them from behind, I grabbed S Man’s nape, who was still unconsciously shaking his waist, and pulled him back.

Then, what flowed out of S Man’s S-pen, which was embedded in the woman’s v*gina, was not the white liquid we all know, but a dark red liquid.

“You really sucked him dry.”

When I threw S Man back, he fainted, breathing shallowly as if he were about to d*e. I thought he had some lean muscle and a bit of fat when I saw him at the cafe, but he was skinny as if he had gone on a crash diet in a short time.

“We almost had to increase the six to seven.”

I threw a handful of red beans at the woman, Ms. Seon-yeong, who had been pretending to be half-passed out from exhaustion from s*x.

Then she jumped up and down like a fish that had met the sweet, terrestrial oxygen.

“Keeeeeek!”

“Let’s see… here it is. Name: Lee Seon-yeong, age: 31, the first number of the resident registration number is 1.”

When I rummaged through her luxurious women’s wallet, a real ID card fell out, not a fake one.

These days, technology is so advanced that most administrative work can be done online, so people don’t know if you’re carrying a fake ID.

You only need to use your real ID when you need to verify your identity. Even that is solved smartly online these days, so it’s difficult to catch someone using a fake ID.

Anyway, I smiled bitterly as I looked at Ms. Seon-yeong, whose red bean-hit areas were red and swollen like pustules.

When she was clinging to S Man from the street, it was hard to figure out which one was the culprit, the man or the woman, because she had ‘six’ on her.

I wondered if it would be different when she received food at the cafe, so I deliberately followed S Man to receive food at the same time, but it was still indistinguishable, probably because she was already possessed.

And now, after they had hasty s*x at the motel, I finally figured out which one had the ‘six’.

“Not only did the b*tch clinging to the man’s body cut off someone else’s perfectly good d*ck through a transgender surgery, but she’s also making him work as a prostitute. The world is truly coming to an end. Come to think of it, he’s still a man, so is he a male prostitute?”

Then that means they were f*cking g*y.

Oh my G*d, Jesus! Sodom and Gomorrah weren’t this bad!

If it were an old ghost, it would have just possessed the man’s body and made him laugh wickedly, or dressed him up as a woman and played with him as it pleased.

But now, with modern medicine quite advanced, the petty ghost, knowing that men can become women with surgery, has thrown Ms. Seon-yeong into the abyss of ruin.

First, it had the man’s p*nis surgically removed so that it could fully possess him, and then made him as similar to a woman as possible.

But since Ms. Seon-yeong was originally a man, she couldn’t survive on Yin energy alone, so she had to constantly replenish her Yang energy. That was through absorbing Yang energy by having s*x with strange men.

In my eyes, Ms. Seon-yeong’s writhing body and the evil ghost overlapped. And around them, I could see the vengeful spirits of men who had been sucked dry, like mummies, shedding tears of blood.

They were all sucked dry of their Yang energy, from s*men to blood, just like S Man, and became something like earthbound spirits, using Ms. Seon-yeong’s body as a kind of medium.

If a man has a lot of ‘something’ on him, it’s usually because he has a lot of resentment around him, and if a woman has a lot of ‘something’ on her, it’s usually because she’s had an abortion.

But since Ms. Seon-yeong was originally a man, there can’t be any fetal ghosts attached to her who died unjustly from abortion.

In other words, it means that she, while being a man, has earned the resentment of many people in a woman’s body.

“Don’t make a fuss and sit down.”

“…How did you know?”

The evil ghost, who had been rolling around naked, grinned widely and opened its eyes wide. In its unfocused eyes was a darkness with no visible depth, and lurking in the darkness was a collection of pure malice that was utterly hideous.

“I’m good. You wanna do it with me too? I’m a famous p*ssy that everyone loves to death. Because they all really died! Hehehehehe!”

“Actually, I don’t hate sinners like you. I rather like them. I have to gather more bastards like you and offer them to Jesus.”

But even for someone like me, there are things I can’t forgive.

First, making a perfectly healthy man have his p*nis cut off without consent, second, forcing a man to live as a woman, and third, turning a man g*y.

“I heard that these days, motels that do good business have vending machines for a*ult goods… Ah, here it is.”

When I paid with S Pay installed on S Man’s smartphone, a set of ropes and handcuffs for SM play, gag balls, and blindfolds came out of the vending machine.

“There’s an old saying. With great p*ssy comes great responsibility.”

Snap!

I pulled the rope taut with a snap and looked at the evil ghost that was smearing its bodily fluids on itself like lotion and laughing wickedly, and I delivered my judgment.

“It’s up to you whether you believe in Jesus and go to heaven, or go to Hong Kong and end up in h*ll. Of course, even if you go to h*ll, I’ll make sure to send you to heaven, so don’t worry too much.”

Since S Man booked the room for the night, our physical exorcism won’t be interrupted by anyone, day or night.

And I’m going to make good use of this vuvuzela that’s perfect for sticking somewhere.