New Normal - Chapter 55

“What are you…?”

The sudden change in position left Jisoo completely off guard.
Before she could even react, she found herself straddling him, unable to hold up her weight, her upper body slumped forward as she leaned against his torso.

She lowered her head, trying to catch her breath.
Her entire body felt like jelly, every muscle slack, her core still trembling with the faint echo of sensation.

“Huuuh…”

“Shin Jisoo’s thoughts?”

Juwon propped an arm behind his head, gazing up at her lazily, letting his eyes roam all over her disheveled, flushed body.

The sight clearly pleased him—his expression softened, almost dazed—but his gaze still burned, heavy and unrelenting.

Raising a hand, he cupped one of her br3asts, then began to circle the tip with a firm, deliberate touch.

“Mm… don’t,” she whispered.

She grabbed his wrist, but she didn’t have the strength to push him away. She wasn’t even sure if it was resistance—or just another way of surrendering. Her body had already given its answer. Her mind was just now catching up.

Juwon pushed himself up, catching one of her stiff, sensitive peaks between his lips. Without pause, he sucked it into his mouth, lips warm, tongue rough, pulling hard like a starving infant.

Whenever his tongue rolled across her n1pple or his lips tightened around it, her hips twitched involuntarily.

“Ahh…”

A sharp, hot pleasure surged from deep inside her, making her grab his hair on instinct.
She didn’t know if it hurt… or if it just felt too good. It didn’t even feel like he was sucking her br3ast—it felt like he was draining her entire soul. Her breath caught as she murmured, voice fading.

“Juwon… mm, I said don’t…”

“I’m hard again,” he murmured, gently grazing her n1pple with his front teeth.

Jisoo couldn’t answer.

Something firm and hot pressed up against her belly again, thick and insistent. With the heat building in her chest and between her legs, her mind was starting to go blank.

“Then what do you want me to do?” she muttered weakly.

“What else?” he grinned. “Go another round. Right now.”

His lips moved along her neck, leaving a deep kiss that would definitely bruise. His hand trailed slowly down her waist, then cupped her ass, squeezing it like he owned it.

When his erection pressed tightly into the crease of her backside, Jisoo stiffened and held her breath.

“Ugh…”

“I want you,” he whispered.

Gripping her flushed ass in both hands, he spread it. His fingers grazed over the delicate skin between her entrance and her other hole, and she flinched.

Even that brief contact made her shiver—her body, embarrassingly sensitive, reacted before her mind could protest.

“I want to be inside you, Shin Jisoo. I want to cum so deep it spills out of you.”

He bit her earlobe as he whispered that last line.

Still holding her like that, he rubbed the head of his c0ck against her entrance. Her rational mind told her to stop this—but her body had already betrayed her. She was wet. Already open and responding to him without hesitation.

The sensation of him rubbing against her—familiar in size and intent—made her core throb before anything even happened. That hit her harder than anything else.

“Haa… mm… no…”

“You’ll like it. I promise.”

He started sucking on her ear, slipping his tongue into the shell of it—and just like that, Jisoo snapped back into herself.

“Juwon—stop.”

She shook her head and pushed weakly at his chest with both hands.

“I mean it. Really. I can’t… not right now. I’m too—too tired. Maybe later.”

Jisoo’s words weren’t exactly firm—but they carried a clear mix of exhaustion and tangled emotion. Juwon’s breath, still hot, brushed close to her face. Then, he let out a soft, short laugh.

“…Alright. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped an arm around her head, then let himself fall back with a sigh.

Jisoo sank into his broad chest, her body resting against his like it was meant to be there. She closed her eyes. His heartbeat thudded against her ear—just moments ago it had been racing, but now it had settled into a steady, calming rhythm, slowly easing away the last of the intensity.

His arms were strong, wrapped tightly around her, and somehow that strength made her feel safe.
Juwon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, one hand carefully brushing through her tangled hair.

His fingers moved gently, soothingly. Then, in a voice so soft it barely registered, he called to her.

“…Jisoo.”

“…Yeah…?”

“I know this is probably the worst timing to say something like this…”

Her mind was foggy, her limbs heavy. Still half-lost in the haze, Jisoo cracked her eyes open just a little, trying to focus.
She couldn’t quite tell what he was about to say, but her gaze lingered quietly on his lips.

He hesitated for a long moment. Then his lips moved, cautiously, almost nervously.

“I think I… Shin Jisoo, I…”

But Jisoo didn’t hear the rest. Her consciousness had already begun slipping away.
His mouth moved again, forming soft, careful syllables.

“…you.”

It was warm. Kind. Whatever he said, it carried a quiet tenderness. But the words never fully reached her.

All she could feel was his faint smile, and the low hum of his voice rumbling gently against her body. It was strangely sweet. Almost too much to bear. And deeply, deeply comforting.

His warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. And with a tangled mess of emotions still heavy in the air, Jisoo closed her eyes again—melting into his embrace, and finally drifting off.

06. Romantically Inept

It was a crisp autumn day under a ripened blue sky, and the kitchen was buzzing with the roar of the exhaust hood, heavy with heat and the smell of oil.

“I was wondering which lucky b1tch would end up a widow, turns out it’s just my cursed fate.”

The savory scent of the jeon frying to a perfect golden brown teased the nose, but Kwak Changja’s voice was bone dry.

Today was the one day in the year when Baeknyeon Ugwan, the family’s seolleongtang joint that practically never closed, actually shut its doors. It’s Shin Sangjo’s memorial day. Jisoo’s maternal grandfather.

Jisoo’s mom, Mikyung, who was seated in front of the portable gas burner, scowled as she flipped the sizzling jeon in the pan.

“Why do you say the same thing every year, Mom? Don’t be like that. Dad might hear you from the afterlife and get all sad. What if he gets annoyed and climbs out of the grave?”

“Hmph. He’s been cremated to ash—what grave?”

Changja made a face and raised a handful of flour like she was offering proof. Mikyung shot her mom a sideways glance, pausing mid-flip.

“You’re impossible. Still, it’s lucky he passed around Chuseok. At least we don’t have to do this twice.”

“Even in death, he kept his good fortune. But hey, Mikyung—don’t you think your dad’s got no shot at getting into heaven?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Heaven?”

“Yeah, heaven. The old geezer croaked while screwing around with some broad. Heaven? Please. The man gambled, womanized, and called it art while burning through money like a drunk pigeon. Pretty sure he’s still having a grand ol’ time in the afterlife with that slut Madam Kang.”

“Ugh, Mom, why bring her up? You hate her. And why make so much food if you’re that mad?”

Even though only four people were present—Jisoo, Mikyung, Changja, and Uncle Junggil who’d gone out to buy rice cakes—the kitchen was in full-blown memorial prep mode. It wasn’t like they had a crowd to feed, but the smell of cooking clung to the air like a second skin. That’s how seriously Mrs. Kwak took memorial meals—she would never allow a meager spread.

“Don’t you know the saying? ‘Give an extra rice cake to the ones you hate.’ You gotta feed them well, even if they’re bastards.”

Mikyung let out a dry chuckle as she flipped another jeon over.

“You talk so much sh1t, and yet you still make all this food. Dad must be eating well.”

“Of course. Doesn’t matter how much I gripe—your dad always had a strong appetite. He wouldn’t care.”

“Same goes for you, Mom. You act like you don’t care either. Look at you, all dolled up like you’re going to a wedding, not your husband’s memorial.”

Changja shrugged as if to say “so what?”

“Hey, how many days do you think I’ve got left to enjoy life? Gotta dress up now—what, should I wait till I’m buried to wear something nice?”

“Ugh, there you go again with the burial talk. You said the same thing back when Dad was alive. Jisoo! Flip that! It’s gonna burn!”

Snapped out of her daze by Mikyung’s shout, Jisoo scrambled to grab the spatula. The fish jeon wobbled dangerously before barely landing right side up.

But maybe she’d pressed down too hard—it stuck to the pan.

“Aigoo, see that? That’s what happens when you space out,”

Changja clicked her tongue in disapproval, then moved the jeon with her bare hands, completely unbothered by the heat. The large basket was already piled high with batter-fried meatballs, beef jeon, and pumpkin jeon.

“Hey, you press down like that and it tears apart! Ugh, this one’s ruined. This one’s okay now. Jeez, Jisoo, you’re supposed to be an artist—why are your hands so clumsy? You sure you’ve got any real talent?”

Kwak’s target had shifted—from her husband, who died over 40 years ago, to Madam Kan,g who was with him when he passed, and now finally to her granddaughter, who’d moved back home after getting scammed in a housing scheme.

After months of endless nagging, Jisoo now responded with ease.

“Grandma, I don’t need talent. I don’t paint anymore, remember? I’m in theory.”

“Hmph. Same sh1t.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s totally different. Grandpa was a painter. I’m more in the realm of critique.”

“What’s to critique in paintings? And how long you gonna keep ‘studying art’? You’re over thirty and still stuck in school. Enough already—just get married.”

“But you’re the one who always said a woman’s fate is like a hollowed-out gourd and that it’s fine to live alone if you’re capable.”

Jisoo kept snacking on the torn jeon and quietly got up, pretending to carry the basket away. But Changja was faster. A sharp smack landed on her back.

“Ow, Grandma!”

“Hey, you! That whole ‘art museum’ phase is long gone now. What’s the point of a PhD when you’re jobless? If you’re not talented, give it up and get married already!”

Rubbing her stinging back, Jisoo pouted.

She had quit the art museum earlier that summer, after an incident in the director’s office. It had taken her a long time to make the decision, and she’d wrestled with it until the very last moment—but she was only able to take that leap because of the quiet support of Chae Juwon.