Defective Banana - Chapter 7
As manager Seungbok pulled the van into a back alley near the nightlife district, Seohyuk stepped out of the car and waved.
“Thanks for today, everyone.”
As the black van drove off, Seohyuk strolled toward a building with a fancy, warmly lit sign overhead. He passed through a glass door etched with illustrations of whiskey glasses, and the moment he entered, the staff recognized him and gave him respectful bows.
Seohyuk responded with a pleasant smile and a polite nod, then continued walking in, as if he were strolling down a quiet night street.
The atmosphere inside was dim and cozy. Tiny lights hung from the ceiling above the window tables like stars falling from the sky. Rows of whiskey bottles and glassware sparkled on the backlit shelves behind the bar, and a sweet pop song filled the space, giving the entire place a warm, slightly intoxicating charm.
But Seohyuk didn’t pause to take it all in. He trudged down the hallway, turned the corner, and pushed open a familiar metal door with one hand.
His entrance turned heads. About half a dozen friends, mid-drink, looked up all at once. Their faces lit up with exaggerated reactions.
“Hey, if it isn’t the elusive Kang Seohyuk!”
“Dude, it’s been forever!”
Clearly, the group had already had a few rounds.
“Seohyuk, I was about to forget what you looked like.”
“C’mon, he’s a top star now. We gotta cut him some slack.”
“Top star, my ass,” Seohyuk muttered, brushing it off as he flopped down on the edge of the sofa and grabbed a bottle of light amber whiskey with one hand. He poured a glass and knocked it back in one go.
The bitter burn hit his throat sharp and hot.
“Whew…”
He leaned back into the couch, not even touching the snacks on the table. Watching him, one of the friends chimed in.
“Yup, still got it. Kang Seohyuk, cool as ever.”
“Seriously, how’s someone that hot also drink like a pro? Look at that jawline. That whiskey never stood a chance.”
Seohyuk just rolled his neck side to side, clearly tired, making one friend ask more seriously.
“You okay? You look kinda off.”
“I’m fine. Just annoyed that there’s nothing going on. That’s the problem.”
Of course, there was a reason behind that grumble.
That woman next door was still spinning circles in his head. And the bizarre, unsettling realization about his own twisted turn-on? He’d been grappling with it all day.
One glass, then another—and soon, the entire bottle was gone. The more he drank, the more this unfamiliar sense of sadness crept in.
So what if he was a well-respected actor? He was still a guy who couldn’t get it up—and he’d just been brutally rejected after his first-ever confession.
He downed another drink. His buzz was kicking in, and he raked his fingers through his usually neat hair, mussing it up before letting out a deep sigh. One corner of his lips curled into a wry smirk.
Ha. You think I chose to be a damn eunuch?
His body’s defect? That was all thanks to his father.
It had been back in middle school. He was on the academy shuttle, heading home, when he spotted his father across the street, arm-in-arm with a woman. They looked cozy. Laughing.
He’d overheard arguments between his parents before, mostly about women. But seeing it with his own eyes? It made his stomach churn.
After that day, it was like his d1ck decided to play dead every time a woman got near. One moment, it worked like a charm—next thing he knew, it shut down completely.
He figured it was just temporary trauma. But even as an adult, nothing changed. Over time, his libido pretty much disappeared. And since he had no trouble taking care of things himself, he just shrugged and ignored it.
Until now.
Now, things were different.
His body reacted around that woman. Fully. And when he was near her, he felt this strange, almost euphoric kind of excitement—something wild and offbeat that he’d never felt before.
But there was one major problem.
This wasn’t just a normal kind of arousal. It only happened when she hit him.
How the hell was he supposed to explain that?
He already had to come clean about being an actor and try to get close to her. But if he told her he could only get it up when she slapped him, she’d probably label him a total pervert and cut him off for good.
Or worse, she might report him. Spread rumors. “Actor Kang Seohyuk? Oh, he’s a kinked-out freak.”
No, that couldn’t happen.
He needed to figure out how to get hard without being hit. Then maybe, just maybe, he could confess properly and try this whole dating thing again.
Maybe getting closer to other women would help. Maybe he just needed exposure.
If he could turn this into a test run, even better.
With that, he looked across the room at Jiyoung, a model friend sitting diagonally from him.
“Hey, Jiyoung. Wanna play some sweet-and-sour pork with me?”
She gave him a weird look. “What the hell? Since when are we on those terms?”
Even though Seohyuk had always kept in touch with his model friends after becoming famous, he’d never really chatted privately with the female ones. So naturally, everyone turned to stare at him, confused.
Seohyuk knocked back another drink, then calmly explained with a low, even voice.
“You know, it’s that game people play these days at drinking parties. Let’s try it. Loser gets slapped. Sound good?”
“What?! Are you drunk already? Or just insane? Why the hell would I slap you? What are you even talking about?”
That’s when Mansoo, another friend watching the scene unfold, stood up from across the table and casually rolled up his sleeves. Then, with a sly grin stretching across his face, he started rotating his shoulders and wrists.
“What’s so hard about it? Do it with me. I freaking love sweet and sour pork.”
Apparently, he’d been doing jiu-jitsu lately—his arm muscles looked intense.
Seohyuk flicked his fingers and gestured for him to sit down.
“Mansoo, just sit your ass down.”
The other guys around him grabbed him too.
“Yeah, seriously, don’t. You’re gonna get executed by the Iron Hearts.”
Iron Hearts was the name of Kang Seohyuk’s fan club.
With a sigh that said “what a shame,” Mansoo flopped back into his seat. That’s when Seohyuk lowered his voice and started the game.
“Alright, don’t hesitate. I’ll go first! Tang!”
“Huh? Su!”
“Yuk!”
Before she knew it, Jiyoung had joined in, and she wasn’t going to lose to Seohyuk.
“Tang!”
“Shyuk!… ah, damn.”
Seohyuk lost and stood up, letting out a small laugh. The lighting above the table cast his shadow wide as he leaned forward.
“Alright, hit me.”
Jiyoung clenched and unclenched her fist as she looked at his cheek one last time.
“Okay, I’m really gonna hit you, alright? No complaining if it hurts!”
“Go ahead. Even if it’s hard—”
SLAP!
She didn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence. The slap landed loud and sharp, strong enough to sober him up.
Still, pretending it didn’t hurt, Seohyuk straightened his shoulders and back and sat down like nothing happened. Then he focused every ounce of attention on his body.
“You okay? Was it too hard? Sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m good. Totally fine.”
And he really was fine.
His junk, that is—completely unbothered.
He’d figured as much. No woman turned him on these days—no one except for her, the girl next door.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly. This time, he turned toward another girl in the group, Hanna.
“Hey, your turn.”
“Huh? What if you lose again? I’ve got a deadly hand, you know.”
“Just do it. Tang!”
“Su!”
“Yuk!”
“Tang!”
“Tang!”
He lost again. He could’ve acted his way out of it—pretended to lose gracefully. But the game just wasn’t working for him.
He stood up again, tilted his head slightly, and offered his cheek to Hanna.
“It’s fine. Hit me too. Go on.”
“Whoa. I can’t believe I get to slap Kang Seohyuk. This is an honor!”
Before she even finished her sentence, her hand smacked his cheek hard.
“You okay?”
His head whipped to the side from the force, but Seohyuk quickly gathered himself and focused again on the lower half of his body.
Still nothing. Not even a twitch.
He let out a quiet sigh and raised his hand, sitting back down like it was no big deal.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Furrowing his brow, Seohyuk grabbed the shot glass in front of him and threw it back in one go.
Now he was certain—she was the only one.
The girl next door was… something else.
He could never forget that rush when he’d touched himself thinking about her. No other woman had ever been that cold, that blunt to him.
The way she looked down at him with those sharp cat-like eyes, slightly lifted as she stepped on his thigh… he swore his heart almost exploded. His d1ck too. It was pulsing so hard, he was afraid he’d come right then and there.
He’d always been showered with love and attention from everyone, so that kind of cold cruelty? It totally wrecked him in the best way.
Her dry voice, her piercing brown eyes, her pale skin peeking through the sleeveless top, the delicate collarbones, the full cleavage beneath—just thinking about her made his heart race like mad.
He took another shot and pictured her cursing at him. Another shot and he remembered how she trampled all over him.
Even in his drunken haze, her image kept flashing in his head, leaving him parched and desperate.
Why the hell couldn’t he get her out of his mind?
“Fvck. I’m losing it.”
The moment he cursed out loud, all his friends turned their heads at once and stared at him.
“Huh? What? What’s up?”
Under all those stares, he forced himself to unclench his face and lifted his glass again.
“It’s nothing. Come on, let’s just drink.”
***
A few hours later, Seohyuk, completely wasted, slumped into a cab. He sprawled across the backseat, clumsily gripping his phone in both hands as he started typing slowly, one painstaking letter at a time.
[Masochism – A sexual tendency to derive pleasure from being hurt or dominated. The desire to be whipped or treated like a slave can result in arousal.]
After reading that, he dragged a hand down his face and began muttering to himself like he was about to cry.
“Fucking lunatic. Goddamn pervert. You know how much that sh1t hurts? You limp d1ck loser. Fucking pathetic freak.”
She probably thought that too. That he was some deranged masochist.
In that totally wrecked state, he had the cab take him not to his own place, but to his mom’s apartment—Sang-ah Mansion.