somerealnerd

  Asteryne sprawled like a glittering beast, the pulsing heart of Valisar. It was Reward World’s rgest commercial hub and John’s homend capital. Towering skyscrapers cwed the sky, their gss faces bzing with reflected neon, a forest of steel and light that dwarfed ambition. Streets churned below, arteries clogged with honking cabs, sleek sedans, and delivery drones weaving through the chaos. Sidewalks teemed with bodies, suits, students, hustlers, each step a race against time. Subway stations exhaled crowds, ptforms packed shoulder-to-shoulder with commuters, faces buried in phones or staring bnk, earbuds drowning the rumble of trains.

  Its every corner screamed big-city life: vendors hawking street food, their carts steaming with grease; billboards fshing ads for tech nobody needed; the air thick with exhaust, perfume, and urgency. Most here scrapped for a living, rushing, grinding, chasing rent or dreams, no pause to breathe. At the city’s core loomed Vitacore Pharma’s headquarters, a sleek monolith of bck gss and chrome, its logo a cold crown over Asteryne’s skyline, whispering power nobody dared question. John’s home, Nexis City, wasn’t small, gritty, alive, its own kind of rough. But next to Asteryne’s relentless roar, Nexis felt like a quiet haven, a sleepy nook where you could still hear your own thoughts.

  John slouched in the passenger seat of Seo-young’s rental car, the city’s din seeping in as he watched the blur of streets. Asteryne’s pulse dragged him back to his old life, before Reward World, before everything. He grew up in a pce like this, another steel jungle, another metropolis, back on Earth. At nineteen, he’d been yanked into a magic-soaked hell, fighting for a century across a hundred battlefields. Time had dulled chunks of his past, names and faces fading like old ink, but his hometown stayed vivid, unshakable. Funnier still, the longer he lived, the clearer he saw it, not the gleaming metropolis it became, but the quieter version, before progress paved it over.

  He could still walk that alley by his childhood home in his mind. Narrow, uneven, it carried him past open kitchen windows each evening, the sizzle of home-cooked meals, stews, fried fish, garlic, drifting out to meet him. Neighbors knew him, tossing out warm chatters as he passed. “Kid, when you helping my boy with his math?” one would call, or, “Get off your ass, kid. Hit the gym or touch grass, quit hiding indoors.” Down the street, a tiny coffee shop run by a Kiwi dude slung the best Long Bck he’d ever tasted, bitter and smooth, steam curling like a promise. At the alley’s mouth, the dairy’s grumpy owner would scowl, “I’m not selling you smokes again, kid, really.” John would just shrug, zy grin in pce. “If you don’t, my dad buys them and hands them over. So what’s the difference, man?” They’d ugh, a ritual as old as the street itself.

  Then the alley vanished, swallowed by towers like the ones outside now. Life got slicker, faster, convenience on tap, but cold. Neighbors turned strangers, heads down, earbuds in, no chatter. No one asked his age again when he bought smokes, as nobody cared anymore. At coffee shops, he’d still try for a Long Bck, only for some bored barista to dead-eye him, voice ft as pavement, zero fucks to be given.

  “So, Americano?”

  He sank deeper into his thoughts, the hum of Asteryne’s streets a distant pulse through the car’s window. Seo-young’s voice cut through, soft and careful, from the driver’s seat. “You okay, John?” She gripped the wheel of the rental, a nondescript sedan she’d picked up for this trip. Her paranoia was running deep. Ever since she and John were set up, she trusted nothing Min-jun might’ve touched. Her phone? Probably tapped. Her car? Likely wired with bugs. Better safe than sorry, so she’d ditched both for this haul to Asteryne.

  John didn’t answer right away, just turned and gave her a quiet smile, the kind that carried more weight than words. His hand drifted to her thigh, fingers grazing the sleek bck pantyhose she wore, stroking slow, back and forth. Seo-young knew this dance too well by now. She’d cracked his code from that night together. Pantyhose were his kryptonite; slip them on, and his hands found her legs like magnets, idle or not. From Nexis City to Asteryne, he’d barely kept them to himself, fingertips tracing zy patterns the whole drive. She had to nudge him once, half-ughing, that it wasn’t exactly safe while she was steering. Otherwise, he would probably park his hand there for good, no shame. She rolled her eyes now, a helpless grin tugging her lips.

  Her mind flicked to their destination, and she straightened, voice firming. “When we get to my pce, no more handsy stuff, okay? My mom’s strict. She won’t like seeing us too cozy.”

  “Sure thing, my princess,” John shot back, his grin pure mischief, voice dripping with that pyful edge that always got her.

  Seo-young ughed, a quick burst that lit up the car’s quiet, shaking her head at his cheek. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, but her smile lingered, warm and unguarded.

  They pulled up to a sleek townhouse on Asteryne’s quieter fringe, its gss-and-steel facade catching the city’s glow. Seo-young killed the engine, shooting John a quick look, half warning, half tease, before they stepped out. He followed her up the steps, steeling himself for the meeting, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment Yeong-suk opened the door.

  John froze, sucking in a sharp breath, his eyes locked on Seo-young’s mother. He couldn’t help it, as she was a vision that hit like a freight train. Staring was the only thing his brain could manage.

  Yeong-suk stood framed in the doorway, a near-mirror of Seo-young, their faces so alike you’d peg them as mother and daughter in a heartbeat, same cheekbones, same eyes. But where Seo-young’s beauty felt warm, approachable, Yeong-suk’s carried a bde’s edge, fierce and commanding, like she could unravel you with a gnce. Maturity carved her features deeper, amplifying her presence; a few fine lines only sharpened her allure. Her bck hair was swept into a loose, careless bun, strands slipping free to graze her neck, effortless yet deliberate. She wore a pin T-shirt, tucked into high-waisted jeans that hugged her frame, an apron tied loose over it all. Casual for sure, but nothing about her screamed ordinary. Every move, every tilt of her head, radiated elite control, a woman who ran boardrooms and broke egos without blinking.

  Her figure was a knockout, curves screaming through the modest clothes like they refused to be caged. A touch shorter than Seo-young, she carried herself taller, her posture pure authority. Her breasts swelled fuller, straining the T-shirt’s fabric just enough to hint at their heft, a size up from her daughter’s, impossible to ignore. Her ass below curved sharper too, denim clinging tight, each step a quiet flex of power. If you squinted at their faces and got stumped on who was who, one gnce at the breasts or the butts cleared it up fast. Yeong-suk’s were the bolder pair, especially that ass, a dead giveaway she was the mom. John’s pulse kicked hard, caught between awe and trouble, knowing he shouldn’t stare but losing the fight.

  The moment Yeong-suk spoke, fshing a smile that lit her eyes, every warning Seo-young had drilled into John, “elite,” “strict,” “calcuting”, melted like smoke. Instead, a genuine warmth rolled off her, disarming and easy, nothing like the corporate shark he’d braced for. “You must be John. So good to see you in person!” she said, voice smooth as honey, inviting in a way that caught him off guard.

  John dipped his head, respectful, and extended a hand for a shake. Seo-young’s coaching kicked in, her voice echoing about cultural norms. But Yeong-suk sidestepped it, stepping close and wrapping him in a hug. Her full breasts pressed soft against his chest, a jolt that sent his pulse racing. “Seo-young has told me so much about you,” she murmured, her breath warm near his ear.

  John’s blood surged, a dangerous rush heading to his lower body. He pulled back quickly, before she could notice, nodding stiffly to cover the heat climbing his neck.

  “Good to see you too, Ms. Park,” he said, voice tight, heart hammering like he’d sprinted a mile.

  Look, no touch. This is fucking torture, he thought, willing his body to chill.

  Yeong-suk waved off his formality. “You’re Seo-young’s fiancé now, so you can just call me Mom, like we do.” She bought the cover Seo-young spun, introducing John as her betrothed to smooth his visit. To be fair though, “fiancé” wasn’t far off. It was just a matter of time, the way things were going.

  She cpped his shoulder, friendly but firm, and John’s eyes betrayed him, catching the faint bounce of her jugs with the motion. He swallowed hard, throat dry.

  Seriously? Mom? This is fucking torture, his mind groaned, half-ughing, half-drowning.

  John wasn’t the only one thrown off. Seo-young stood beside him, jaw practically unhinged, staring at her mother like she had grown a second head. Is this really my mom? Growing up, she’d idolized Yeong-suk, and she still did. Let alone the part that she was a single mom who raised Seo-yong all by herself. She was one of Vitacore Pharma’s rare female powerhouses. She had cwed her way to the top, no silver spoon or connected husband to lean on, unlike the other women in her tier. She was a titan, self-made, unbreakable. But that strength scared Seo-young too. Yeong-suk’s sharpness cut deep. Every half-formed scheme, every teenage fib, her mom saw through like gss. Strict didn’t cover it; she was a force, and Seo-young had spent years both awed and cowed.

  And of course, Seo-young clocked John’s look, his eyes wide, practically glued to her mom, his face a mix of dumbstruck awe and a desperate bid to hide the heat creeping up. She bit back a grin, amusement flickering. Typical man, she thought. Every guy who crossed their threshold pulled the same stunt, gawking at Yeong-suk like she was a siren call. Not one left with a smile, though, and her mom made sure of that. Seo-young’s mind snagged on a memory, sharp and clear: her old tutor, a tall, chiseled guy who oozed alpha swagger, the kind that even made her teenage heart skip. But instead, he had been smitten with Yeong-suk, all cocky charm, until he wasn’t.

  He’d poured his heart out, ying it bare, only for Yeong-suk to tear it to shreds. Her words came cold and surgical, each one a jab straight to his core, slicing his pride to ribbons without a second gnce. He’d flushed red, ego bruised, and made the mistake of thinking he could “teach her a lesson.” Big big mistake. Yeong-suk dropped him in seconds, two punches, one kick, precise and brutal, leaving him sprawled, barely twitching. Seo-young still remembered his face, crumpled and wet with tears, the first time she had ever seen a man cry. There were no real wounds, just his confidence shattered, gone for good. Pitiful, ughable, and she could still picture it, clear as yesterday.

  But Seo-young kept this info from John that her mom could fight, really well. In the precinct, Seo-young was a standout, top-tier in a brawl, like that night she dropped three goons without killing them, all speed and control. Few could match her in the force, not Min-jun, who was not even close, not even John, despite his cunningness and agility. That edge was honed from childhood, forged by Yeong-suk’s relentless training, sparring sessions that left her bruised but sharper.

  She held her tongue now, an impish spark flickering. Part of her wanted to see John try his luck, maybe take a swing, and get fttened by her mom, just to catch his reaction, all flustered and floored.

  Go for it, John. Go get her. Good luck! she thought, a grin sneaking out as she pictured him eating a fist, ego dented, scrambling to recover.

  Yeong-suk turned from John, her face softening as she pulled Seo-young into a tight hug. “Welcome home, my precious daughter,” she said, voice thick with warmth, eyes shining with love and pride.

  Seo-young melted into it, but her mind ticked back. Before this trip, she’d spilled everything to Yeong-suk, every detail of the past weeks. Not out of some cozy mother-daughter bond, but cold necessity. If she wanted intel from her mom, lies wouldn’t cut it; Yeong-suk sniffed out bullshit like a bloodhound. Seo-young could still hear her mother’s voice over the phone, clear and fierce, after she’d recounted tearing Min-jun apart in the interrogation room: “I’m so proud of you, babe.” Real, unguarded, it had hit her hard. Maybe she’s finally seeing herself in me, Seo-young mused, a quiet glow settling in her chest. It expined the shifttoo: Yeong-suk’s softer edges today, the warmth that felt new. It was earned.

  “Dinner’s ready, you little lovebirds,” Yeong-suk called, untying her apron. “We’ll talk about what you’re after over food.” She led them into the house, through a tidy hall to a dining room where a spread waited: steaming dishes of kimchi jjigae, grilled fish, and banchan crowding the table, their aromas curling warm in the air. John and Seo-young settled across from her, and the meal unfolded, mostly easy and light. Laughter came quick, stories swapped, chopsticks clinking, except when the case crept in. Then Yeong-suk’s face sharpened, slipping into the stern edge Seo-young knew too well.

  Her answers were clipped, precise. She didn’t know why Vitacore Pharma would tangle itself in Anthony Vanderbilt’s mess. His crimes were too ugly, too loud. Sure, his father, Charles Vanderbilt, even outranked her, a heavyweight in the company’s elite. But shielding Anthony risked a “PR disaster”. Her eyes flicked to John when she stressed the word again.

  “John, you know very well about ‘PR disaster’, right?”

  He blinked, caught ft-footed, unsure what she was driving at. But Yeong-suk didn’t linger, brushing it off. “Still, I’ve got ways to clear your path,” she added, voice steady. “I need to check a few things first, then I’ll y out a pn.”

  Then they let the case drop, talk drifting to softer ground, family quirks, old memories. John mostly nodded along, tossing in a grin or a hum, as his head started to swim. The room felt too warm, his grip on himself fraying. Thoughts of Yeong-suk, filthy, reckless ones, kept creeping in, the feel of her breasts still vivid from that hug. He gnced at the soju bottle on the table. It's a gift Yeong-suk had insisted they try, toasting their first meeting. All three of them had downed a few gsses, but while he felt the buzz loosening him, Seo-young and Yeong-suk sat sharp, unfazed, like the liquor was water. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, and caught a sly smirk from Yeong-suk, maybe? But when he squinted, though, she was just chatting with Seo-young, her smile as normal as the rice bowl in her hand.

  Dinner wound down, ptes cleared, and Yeong-suk stayed her warm, welcoming self, guiding them to Seo-young’s old room. “Here’s where you’ll stay,” she said, gesturing to a cozy space, a single bed with crisp sheets, posters still pinned from Seo-young’s teen years. “You lovebirds don’t need separate rooms. Just share this one.”

  John’s eyes snagged on the bed, his mind fshing to Seo-young’s pantyhose-cd thigh from the drive, that silky feel under his fingers. Heat fred low, and he wanted her tonight, needed to lose himself in her, empty his balls proper. It’d burn out these rogue thoughts about Yeong-suk, and set him straight.

  Yeong-suk’s voice drifted back, calm but firm. “It’s te. I’ll leave you two. Rest up.” She paused, her tone hardening just a tick. “But, you two, no fooling around in this house, okay?”

  John’s gut twisted, desire roaring only to crash against her rule like a brick wall. Seo-young, ever her mother’s daughter, would follow it to the letter, and he knew it. His pns for the night, that wild sex he had been banking on to get rid of his dangerous thoughts about Yeong-suk, went up in smoke. Frustration cwed at him, sharp and mean. Oh great, this is fucking torture, he thought, jaw tight, staring at the bed that promised nothing but sleep.