#숫자

[barnacles34]

Lost in Analysis (Winter x Male OC)

5k words, smut, fluff, happiness, data

Winter x Male OC

this is probably my best work yet.

The thing about Junho Kim's[1] weekly debriefs with Minjeong Kim was that they followed a precise algorithm, an almost liturgical routine that both participants had wordlessly agreed upon circa Winter's third month of employment (viz. April 2024). The format went as follows: Winter would arrive at exactly 18:30 on Friday bearing a leather-bound portfolio containing the week's logistics reports, margin analyses, and projected Q3/Q4 modeling scenarios. Junho would pretend to study these for exactly twelve minutes while Winter sat in the ergonomic chair across his desk, her accent becoming pronounced in direct proportion to her anxiety level[2].

What happened on this particular Friday deviated from the algorithm in ways that would later prove significant, starting with Winter's arrival at 18:27[3].

"The Busan account numbers are off," Junho said, his photographic memory already detecting a 0.03% discrepancy in the third-quarter projections. The words emerged with the mechanical precision of someone who had learned human speech through technical manuals rather than conversation. "This is—" he paused, index finger tapping against his mahogany desk in a rapidfire motion that Winter had learned to recognize as his pre-explosion tell, "—unacceptable."

And then something unprecedented occurred.

Instead of her usual composed absorption of his critique, Winter's face crumpled into what could only be described as a squeaky whimper, a sound so incongruous with her usual professional demeanor that it seemed to physically stun Junho into silence. It was the acoustic equivalent of watching a Mercedes-Benz hiccup.

The algorithm crashed.

—

[1] Junho Kim, CEO of Quantum Logistics Solutions, net worth $2.3B (₩3.1T), possessed what his former Harvard professors called "an almost frightening capacity for data retention" and what his former therapist (sessions terminated after 2.5 meetings) called "a pathological inability to process emotional bandwidth."

[2] A phenomenon her roommate had dubbed "The Accent Anxiety Index," where her carefully practiced Seoul pronunciation would gradually give way to her native Busan satoori, ranging from barely detectable at Level 1 ("감사합니다") to full coastal at Level 10 ("아이고, 사장님, 이 숫자 영 아니네요").

[3] The 3-minute early arrival would later be explained by a complex series of events involving a broken elevator, two flights of stairs, and Winter's determination not to let her carefully constructed timeline collapse due to mechanical failure.

—

The following Friday's debrief began with Junho actually pulling out Winter's chair[4], a gesture so unexpected that she nearly missed the seat entirely. The portfolio was reviewed. The whiskey was poured (Junho's usual Macallan 25, Winter's Hwayo 41). And then, somewhere between the second and third drink, Winter's accent kicked into what would later be classified as Level 11 on the Southern Comfort Scale.

"You know what your problem is, sajangnim?" Minjeong's words carried the warm weight of soju and suppressed frustration, her carefully maintained Seoul accent dissolving entirely into coastal inflections. "당신은 인생을 마치 스프레드시트처럼 대하시네요. Everything must calculate perfectly, but people aren't numbers, and some of us are tired of being debugged like broken code."

Junho's finger stopped its habitual tapping mid-motion[5].

—

[4] A gesture learned from a WikiHow article titled "Basic Human Courtesy: A Beginner's Guide" that Junho had queued up on his tablet at 3:47 AM the previous Tuesday.

[5] Later analysis would reveal this as the exact moment Junho Kim, master of algorithms and logistics, encountered a variable his photographic memory couldn't process: genuine human connection.[6]

The office fell into a silence that could be measured in heartbeats (Junho's: an efficient 72 BPM; Minjeong's: an elevated 98 BPM). Outside, Seoul's financial district performed its usual Friday night exodus, the sound of departing Mercedes and BMWs creating a capitalistic symphony twenty-three floors below.

"시간이..." Minjeong continued, her Busan accent now operating at what could only be classified as Level 12[7], "Time isn't just money, 사장님. Sometimes it's just... time. Like those lunches you wolf down in exactly eight minutes while reading reports. Or these Friday meetings where you never actually look at me, just through me at some invisible spreadsheet floating in the air behind my head."

Junho's hand, still frozen mid-tap, slowly lowered to the desk. His photographic memory began involuntarily cataloging details it had somehow missed during their previous 47 debriefs: the way Minjeong's left hand always fidgeted with her portfolio's corner when nervous, how her voice carried traces of sea salt and summer festivals despite years of Seoul speech coaching, the fact that she had memorized his coffee preferences down to the precise temperature (81°C, no higher, no lower).

"I do look at you," he said, then immediately registered the statistical improbability of his own response[8].

Minjeong's laugh carried the particular timber of someone who had been holding it in reserve for approximately 11.7 months. "아니요, you really don't. You look at KPIs and performance metrics and quarterly projections. Did you know," she leaned forward, her accent thick as Busan fog, "that I've worn the same earrings every Friday for three months just to see if you'd notice?"

The earrings in question were small silver cranes, Junho's memory instantly supplied, purchased from a street vendor in Gukje Market during last quarter's Busan office inspection, chosen because their wings formed the mathematical symbol for infinity when viewed from the correct angle[9].

—

[6] A concept that would later require Junho to create an entirely new category in his mental filing system, located somewhere between "Acceptable Business Practices" and "Breathing Exercises (Mandatory)."

[7] A previously theoretical level on the Accent Anxiety Index, characterized by the complete abandonment of Seoul linguistic pretense and the emergence of what Minjeong's mother would call "우리 딸의 진짜 목소리" (our daughter's real voice).

[8] Statistical analysis of Junho's daily eye contact patterns, conducted by his personal AI assistant, revealed an average sustained eye contact duration of 1.3 seconds with all employees, making his current 4.7-second gaze at Minjeong a 361.5% deviation from the mean.

[9] A detail that would have impressed Junho greatly had he noticed it at the time of purchase, rather than at this precise moment when his brain was simultaneously trying to process the concept of infinity and the way Minjeong's eyes reflected the city lights like binary code translated into stardust.

—

The Hwayo bottle stood between them like a glass mediator, its contents depleted by exactly 73.4%. Junho found himself performing calculations he had never previously considered necessary: the precise angle at which Minjeong's smile disrupted his cardiac rhythm (42.7°), the correlation coefficient between her proximity and his ability to maintain coherent thought patterns (inverse relationship, R² = 0.97), the half-life of each satoori-tinged syllable in his auditory memory (approaching infinity)[10].

"There's a pojangmacha," Minjeong said, her words now performing linguistic gymnastics between Seoul and Busan, "down in Gangnam that serves 할매's 파전 just like back home. But you—" she gestured with her glass, creating small amber trajectories in the air, "—you probably have the exact caloric content memorized without ever tasting it."

"624 calories per standard serving," Junho confirmed automatically, then added, in what he would later recognize as his first attempt at human humor[11], "Not accounting for 할매's (grandmother’s) love."

The laugh that escaped Minjeong's lips was genuine enough to bypass all of Junho's statistical models for appropriate business interaction. It was the kind of laugh that made him wonder if his entire algorithmic approach to life had been operating on a fundamental error: the assumption that human emotions could be debugged rather than experienced.

"사장님," she said, then caught herself, "아니, Junho-ssi." The honorific shift created a quantifiable disruption in the office's atmospheric pressure[12]. "Do you know why I cry sometimes when you yell about the numbers?"

Junho's hands found themselves attempting to calculate an emotion he had no formula for. "I... have a working hypothesis."

"It's not because I'm scared or hurt," she continued, her Busan accent now wrapping around the words like a warm coast-side breeze. "It's because I see you turning yourself into code, like you're trying to compile a human being into binary, and..." she paused, searching for words in both Seoul and Busan vocabularies before settling on, "...그게 너무 아까워요."

The phrase hung in the air, untranslatable in its full emotional weight[13].

—

[10] A phenomenon that would later require Junho to create an entirely new mathematical framework he privately termed "The Minjeong Constant: Variables in Human Connection."

[11] Later analysis of office security footage would reveal this as his first non-data-related comment in approximately 2,847 hours of recorded business interactions.

[12] Advanced environmental sensors in the building's HVAC system actually recorded a 0.02% change in air pressure at this exact moment, though causation versus correlation remains a subject of debate among the building's maintenance staff.

[13] The closest English approximation might be "it's such a waste," but this fails to capture the uniquely Korean sense of regret for potential beauty lost to unnecessary efficiency, like trying to measure ocean waves in milliliters.

—

For exactly 15.4 seconds, Junho Kim—master of instantaneous data processing, champion of real-time analytics—found himself buffering. His mind, that perfectly calibrated instrument of calculation, attempted to run multiple subroutines simultaneously:

ROUTINE_1: Analyze the 2.3% tremor in Minjeong's voice during "그게 너무 아까워요"

ROUTINE_2: Process the 7.4mm dilation of his pupils upon hearing his given name

ROUTINE_3: Calculate the exact distance between their hands on the desk (23.7cm, decreasing by approximately 0.3mm per heartbeat)

ERROR: Stack overflow in emotional processing unit[14]

"I have a file," he began, then stopped, realizing that perhaps not everything needed to be classified and stored. "No, I mean... I remember every time you've smiled at work. Real smiles, not the ones you use for clients or difficult vendors." His fingers twitched, instinctively seeking a keyboard that wasn't there. "The data suggests that they occur most frequently when you're talking about Busan, or when you think no one is watching you arrange the office plants, or..." he paused, processing, "...or when you're correcting my humanity protocols[15]."

Minjeong's eyes widened, creating what Junho's brain automatically calculated as a 34.6% increase in their reflective surface area. "You... keep track of my smiles?"

"I keep track of everything," he said, then amended, displaying unprecedented runtime flexibility, "but your smiles occupy 43% more memory space than standard data points."

"아이고," Minjeong laughed, the sound carrying hints of sea breezes and noraebang nights, "only you would quantify feelings in percentages and memory allocation, 사장님[16]."

The Hwayo bottle now stood at 82.6% depletion. Outside, Seoul had transformed into its weekend configuration, all neon equations and binary dreams. But inside this office, something unquantifiable was compiling—a program written in neither Python nor Java, but in the ancient code of human connection.

"There's a logical error in your earlier statement," Junho said suddenly, his voice performing calculations it had never been calibrated for. "About me not looking at you."

"Oh?" Minjeong's eyebrow arched at precisely 27 degrees.

"I look at you approximately 2,347 times per day. My peripheral vision activates in your presence with 72% more frequency than baseline. I have memorized exactly 267 variations of your voice modulation between Seoul and Busan registers[17]. The error," he continued, his own accent slipping for the first time since Harvard, "is in assuming I don't see you."

—

[14] A phenomenon his Harvard professors had theoretically predicted but never successfully documented: the complete shutdown of pure logic circuits in favor of what they termed "human.exe."

[15] A private joke that had never made it past his internal firewall until this moment, referring to the way she subtly guided him toward more socially acceptable behaviors, like suggesting he say "good morning" to the cleaning staff or remember team members' birthdays.

[16] The honorific here carrying a new weight, somewhere between professional distance and affectionate teasing, a linguistic quantum state that would have fascinated physicists had they been present to observe it.

[17] This particular statistic would later become the subject of a 3 AM realization that perhaps "normal" CEOs don't maintain such detailed databases of their assistants' vocal patterns.

—

The confession hung in the air with the weight of a misplaced decimal point. Minjeong's hand, still holding her Hwayo glass, trembled at a frequency of approximately 3.2 Hz. The office's automated climate control system registered a sudden 0.7°C spike in local temperature[18].

"그래서..." Minjeong's voice emerged in Pure Pattern #271 (Subcategory: Emotional Breakthrough), "this is why you always know when I've had 떡볶이 for lunch?"

The unexpected query caused Junho to experience what his systems could only classify as a brief moment of runtime joy. "The specific aroma particles adhere to your cardigan at a rate of—" he caught himself, noting the gleam in her eye, and for the first time in recorded history, Junho Kim deliberately chose not to complete a calculation[19].

Instead, he found himself saying, "Your smile increases by exactly 23.7% when you eat 떡볶이. It's... optimal."

"최적화?" Minjeong's laugh carried notes of soju and starlight. "You're really going to data-analyze my happiness levels?"

"I have spreadsheets," he admitted, his voice carrying an unfamiliar warmth that his diagnostic systems struggled to categorize. "Cross-referenced with weather patterns, quarterly reports, and the frequency of your Busan accent emergence[20]."

"아이고..." She shifted in her chair, reducing the distance between them by precisely 4.7 centimeters. "You're either the weirdest or the most romantic person I've ever met, and I haven't decided which yet."

The word 'romantic' created a momentary buffer overflow in Junho's cognitive processes. His hands, typically occupied with calculating profit margins or optimizing supply chains, found themselves drawing abstract patterns on his desk's surface—a behavior previously filed under 'Inefficient Human Gestures: Do Not Engage.'

"I could..." he paused, processing, "...show you the data?"

—

[17] This particular dataset would later be renamed in his personal files to "The Minjeong Codex: A Quantitative Analysis of Qualitative Perfection."

[18] The building's maintenance staff would later attribute this to a mechanical anomaly, unaware they had documented the exact moment Junho Kim's ice-cold corporate facade began its calculated melt.

[19] A moment that would later be marked in his personal development log as "First Successful Implementation of Strategic Data Suppression for Emotional Optimization."

[20] These spreadsheets, discovered months later during a routine server backup, would become legendary among the IT department as "The Love Languages of Linear Regression."

—

Minjeong's eyes sparkled with what Junho's facial recognition protocols quantified as 87% mirth, 13% tenderness. "보여주세요," she said, the soju making her consonants softer, more Busan-bound. "Show me this data about me."

For the first time in his professional career, Junho Kim fumbled with his laptop password[21]. The Hwayo bottle between them had decreased to critical levels, and he found the standard office lights were creating unusual prismatic effects in Minjeong's hair. His fingers, typically precise to the microsecond, skittered across the keyboard.

"See, here's the correlation between your happiness metrics and the proximity to Korean holidays," he began, then stopped, distracted by the way she'd rolled her chair closer to view his screen. The scent of her perfume (도라지 꽃, his brain supplied automatically, though for once the percentage calculation felt irrelevant) mixed with the lingering soju in the air.

"You made a pie chart," she said, her voice warm with something his systems were too buzzed to properly quantify, "of my favorite lunch spots?"

"The data visualization seemed... appropriate," he managed, aware that his usual processing power was operating at diminished capacity. "Though I may have spent a statistically anomalous amount of time color-coding it to match your favorite blazer[22]."

Minjeong's laugh had shed all traces of its Seoul polish. "어머나, who knew the great Junho Kim was such a..." she searched for the word in both dialects before landing on, "...nerd?"

"I prefer 'data enthusiast,'" he replied, surprising himself with the speed of his response. The soju was definitely affecting his standard processing delays. "Though my enthusiasm appears to be... specialized."

"Specialized?" Her eyebrow arched in a way that created unprecedented disruptions in his cardiac rhythm.

"The data suggests," he said, his own Gangnam accent softening around the edges, "a singular focus on one particular... variable[23]."

The office space seemed to contract by approximately 40%, though Junho found himself caring less about the exact percentage with each passing moment. Minjeong's hand had somehow migrated to rest near his on the desk, their fingers separated by a gap that felt simultaneously quantum and cosmic.

—

[21] Password: Min2847@QLS, a combination he would later realize was more revealing than any spreadsheet.

[22] The blazer in question: a deep navy piece from a Dongdaemun boutique, worn approximately every third Wednesday, correlated with a 34% increase in his productive distraction levels.

[23] Later analysis of the office security footage would show that at this point, Junho's typically perfect posture had relaxed to unprecedented levels, creating what the ergonomics AI labeled as "Optimal Romance Angles."

—

"Show me more," Minjeong said softly, unconsciously tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Something in her tone caused Junho's spinal alignment to automatically straighten, his shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly. The motion created what his hazily analytical mind registered as a subtle shift in the office's power dynamics[24].

"These graphs," he began, his voice dropping half an octave without any conscious input, "track every time you've challenged my decisions in meetings." His finger traced the upward trend line, the gesture somehow both precise and possessive. "You're the only one who dares to correct my logic. It's... intriguing."

Minjeong's breath caught audibly. "사장님..." she started, then with visible effort, "Junho-ssi... you track even that?"

"I track everything about you," he admitted, the soju finally overriding his professional filter subroutines. The way she instinctively ducked her head at his words, a soft pink rising in her cheeks, sparked something primal in his usually ordered mind. "Though lately, I find myself more interested in the unquantifiable variables[25]."

"Like what?" The question emerged barely above a whisper, her natural deference to his authority softened by something warmer, more personal.

Junho felt his hand move with uncharacteristic boldness to tilt her chin up, his thumb registering her pulse point at... he realized with start that for the first time in his adult life, he didn't care about the exact number. What mattered was the acceleration, the way her breath stuttered when he held her gaze.

"Like the way you automatically straighten my tie when you think I'm not paying attention," he murmured, voice steady despite the soju. "Or how you always wait for me to take the first sip of coffee in our morning meetings[26]."

—

[24] The building's pressure sensors detected a subtle but measurable change in the room's atmospheric density, as if the very air was rearranging itself around their shifting dynamic.

[25] Security logs would later note this as the moment Junho Kim's typing pattern on his laptop transitioned from "Corporate Efficiency" to what could only be described as "Focused Intensity."

[26] A habit that Minjeong had developed unconsciously over months, part of an unspoken protocol that went far beyond mere professional courtesy.

—

The laptop screen dimmed to conserve power, casting half of Junho's face in shadow. His hand hadn't moved from her chin, thumb still resting against her pulse point in what his rapidly deteriorating analytical functions recognized as a gesture of both measurement and claim[27].

"You know what else I've noticed?" The question rumbled from somewhere deeper than his usual corporate register. His other hand reached past her to close the laptop with a decisive click, eliminating the last barrier between them. "You mirror my breathing patterns during long meetings. 호흡이... perfectly synchronized."

Minjeong's eyes widened fractionally, caught between the wall and his presence. "That's..." she swallowed, her professional composure wavering, "...very observant of you, 사장님."

"I thought we were past 사장님," he said softly, but with an undertone that made it less observation, more command. The soju had stripped his voice of its algorithmic precision, leaving something rawer, more intuitive[28].

"Jun...ho..." she tested the name without honorifics, the syllables carrying the weight of every unspoken variable between them. Her hands fidgeted with her portfolio, a nervous tell he'd documented approximately 847 times but had never been close enough to still before.

Until now.

His free hand covered both of hers, instantly calming their movement. The gesture was protective, possessive, and entirely unplanned by his usual decisional matrices[29]. "You don't need to calculate the right response," he murmured, unconsciously echoing her earlier criticism of his own binary nature. "Your instincts have a 99.9% accuracy rate."

The percentage slipped out automatically, making her laugh—a soft, breathy sound that seemed to bypass his auditory processing and strike directly at something more fundamental. Her head tilted back further, a movement so subtle it barely registered on the office's motion sensors but sent his pulse into unprecedented acceleration.

"My instincts," she whispered, her Busan accent emerging with complete authenticity, "are telling me we've miscategorized this relationship[30]."

—

[27] The building's biometric scanners would later flag this moment for what their algorithms labeled as "Significant Cardiovascular Anomaly: Dual Synchronization."

[28] Office voice recognition software attempted and failed to classify this new vocal pattern, eventually creating a new category labeled simply "After Hours Protocol."

[29] The exact pressure of his grip would have registered at precisely 7.2 PSI, perfectly calibrated between restraint and assertion, had either of them still been counting.

[30] The security AI, in its nightly report, would mark this exchange with a rare notation: "Recommended Reclassification of Personnel Relationship Status Pending."

—

"Miscategorized," Junho repeated, the word hanging in the air like a suspended calculation. His hand moved from her chin to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair with unprecedented decisiveness[31]. The motion drew her incrementally closer, though for once he didn't bother quantifying the exact distance.

"yes..." Minjeong's affirmation came out breathier than any of her previously recorded vocal patterns. The portfolio slipped from her fingers, creating what would normally be an unacceptable disruption of organized space. Neither of them moved to retrieve it.

"You know what's interesting?" Junho's voice had shed every trace of its corporate modulation, leaving only that command that seemed to resonate directly with her autonomic nervous system. "I've run approximately 2,847 scenarios of this moment in my head[32]."

Her hands had found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the precise Italian wool of his suit. "And?" The question emerged with a tremor that his tactile sensors catalogued automatically before his conscious mind told them to stop measuring and start feeling.

"None of them..." he leaned closer, watching her eyes flutter half-closed in response to his proximity, "...included the variable of you looking at me exactly like this."

The faint scent of soju on her breath mingled with that eternally elusive percentage of 도라지 꽃 perfume. Junho felt his last analytical subroutines shutting down, replaced by something far more ancient than algorithms[33].

"Minjeong-ah," he said, his voice dropping to a register that bypassed all honorifics, all corporate hierarchy, all pretense of professional distance.

Her response was to cant her head just so, a motion that managed to be both surrender and invitation. "Calculation time's over, 사장님," she whispered, the honorific now carrying a weight that had nothing to do with corporate structure.

—

[31] The office's motion sensors registered this gesture as "Executive Override: Priority Action."

[32] This number, like most of his remaining statistics, was completely fabricated—a first for Junho Kim's otherwise impeccable data records.

[33] Building security cameras would later mark this timestamp with an unprecedented classification: "Critical System Override: Human.exe fully activated."

—

For the first time in his documented existence, Junho Kim stopped calculating entirely.

The distance closed between them with a momentum that defied measurement. His hand tightened in her hair, angling her face upward as his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss, when it came, contained no statistics, no data points, no quantifiable metrics[34].

Minjeong made a soft sound—Pattern #unknown, Category: heaven—against his mouth. Her fingers clutched his suit lapels with enough force to wrinkle the wool beyond its optimal pressed state, a fact that Junho's usually meticulous mind registered and immediately discarded as irrelevant.

Time segmented into a new measurement system: the catch of her breath, the silk of her hair between his fingers, the way she yielded and pressed closer simultaneously. Junho discovered that his organizational skills apparently extended to kissing, each angle adjustment and pressure variation drawing increasingly desperate responses from Minjeong[35].

When they finally broke apart, Minjeong's carefully maintained Seoul pronunciation had disappeared entirely. "아이고..." she breathed against his mouth, "당신이..."

"Initial results," Junho murmured, his own accent thick with something that had nothing to do with regional linguistics, "require extensive further testing[36]."

She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest where she was still pressed against him. "Did you just turn our first kiss into a quality control protocol?"

"Quality confirmed," he replied, then demonstrated his newfound commitment to hands-on research by kissing her again, harder this time, swallowing her surprised gasp. His hand splayed possessively across her lower back, holding her steady as she swayed into him.

—

[34] The building's atmospheric sensors recorded unexplained fluctuations in local temperature, humidity, and electromagnetic fields, leading to a complete recalibration of their measurement standards.

[35] Later analysis would suggest that Junho's legendary attention to detail had found a new, decidedly non-professional application, though this data remains classified in personal files marked "Private Research: Ongoing."

[36] The security AI attempting to transcribe this conversation eventually gave up and simply tagged the file: "Error 404: Professionalism Not Found."

—

Somewhere in the haze of non-analytical thought, Junho registered Minjeong's slight backward momentum and moved instinctively to steady her. His hand swept the desk clear with uncharacteristic disregard for organizational protocols, sending the quarterly reports flutter-falling to the carpet in an acceptable margin of chaos[37].

"Jun...ho..." His name escaped her lips like a statistical anomaly as he lifted her effortlessly onto the mahogany surface. Her legs parted automatically to accommodate him, skirt hiking up precisely 4.7 inches—the last measurement his brain would process for the foreseeable future.

"So beautiful," he murmured against her throat, the words emerging in pure Gangnam inflection, all pretense of corporate diction abandoned. His teeth grazed her pulse point, drawing a whimper that would require an entirely new classification system[38].

Minjeong's fingers tangled in his precisely styled hair, disrupting approximately 47 minutes of morning grooming routine. "사장님," she gasped, the honorific now carrying entirely different connotations, "the papers..."

"Irrelevant data," he growled, recapturing her mouth with newfound authority. The kiss deepened, transformed, became something that defied all previous parameters. Her back arched into him, creating angles that had nothing to do with geometry and everything to do with instinct[39].

A distant part of his mind registered the soft thud of his suit jacket hitting the floor, followed by the whisper of silk as Minjeong's blazer joined it. The city lights painted silver equations across her skin, codes he suddenly needed to decode with his mouth instead of his mind.

—

[37] The office's normally pristine state would require exactly 23.7 minutes to restore, a task that would be significantly delayed by several subsequent "data collection sessions."

[38] Facial recognition software attempting to analyze the security feed would crash repeatedly, unable to reconcile Junho Kim's expression with any known configuration in its emotional database.

[39] The building's structural integrity sensors registered minor seismic activity, though this data would be suspiciously absent from the next day's maintenance logs.

—

He let his hands trail by the sides of her body, one busy with her torso—breasts and all—and the other, feeling the creamy softness of her thighs. And each needy press or pinch, brought out the softest of her moans, the cutest of her lip quivers.

He was busy, marking her lips, making it all swollen and red; yet, still, he couldn’t get enough of her. That soft body, her caring little hands, her hot inner thighs, and that gentle heat radiating off her core—just hidden by the slightest of her skirt. “Minjeong.” He whispered, pressing himself against her—a matter of teasing and also a way to test the waters, whether or not she wanted it on the table.

And Minjeong, not one to initiate, wrapped her thin arms around his nape, pulling him closer, “Yes, yes, please, anything, anywhere,” then a dozen little kisses all on his face. This assurance, this consent, slowly, but surely, made him wrench her legs open—wide. He saw that stain, dark against her gray underwear, and that was when his photographic memory… failed him.

He dug in, letting his loin press up against hers—immersing himself in her wetness. Then, finally, he pulled down on his pants, showing his tent-like imprint on his underwear to Minjeong, who, obviously, couldn’t stop staring. By the end of the minute, that ruthless minute, both were undressed in their lower-half—a utilitarian instinct to fuck each other as fast as possible.

Junho breathed heavily, staring at that pink hue that her core was so beautifully composed of—along with the wetness, the fragrance, and more. “Minjeong…” He held his shaft, lining it up straight on her wetness. She finally replied, “Yes… Junho…” And that’s when he pressed in, into the endless heat.

That wet connection hilt-to-hilt, along with a deep kiss—turned Minjeong completely docile and submissive. That wet connection, her wet slime covering his shaft, somehow, only intensified their lust for each other. He pressed in again, faster this time, earning that soft mewl. “Mhm, fuck me,” she whispered, again and again. He kept honoring those wishes, going deeper, and faster. He tucked his dick into her pussy, wet squelch and all, over and over until he felt his legs get weak from thrusting. Yet, that weakness didn’t deter him, he glided deeper, letting both their pelvises rub against each other, and making Minjeong cry out from the clit stimulation. She felt like she was getting tunneled, this man, the love of her life, crush of her lifetime, fucking her so good into a wobbly table—dreams aren’t even this good.

“I’m gonna cum, Minjeong.” He whispered, low and growling.

“Inside. Please. Inside…” She whispered before getting overtaken by her orgasm.

And just at the peak of her orgasm, the teetering breath before rest, Junho barreled all his semen inside her—rope after rope of semen splashing against her cervix. “Holy fuck.” they both said in conjunction. 

—

The Seoul skyline had shifted into its late-night configuration by the time they finally disentangled themselves. Junho's normally immaculate shirt hung open, his tie having long since joined the scattered papers on the floor. Minjeong's hair had abandoned all pretense of its usual professional arrangement, falling in waves that his fingers couldn't seem to stop threading through[40].

"이게..." Minjeong began, her voice still carrying traces of breathlessness as she surveyed the chaos they'd created. Her blazer lay draped over a chair at an angle that would have horrified their usual professional standards. "I should reorganize the—"

"Stay exactly where you are," Junho commanded softly, his arms tightening around her waist. His usual perfectionism had found a new target: the way she melted against him at that tone[41].

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her smile pure Busan sunshine. "데이트하자... be my 오빠?" The question emerged with endearing uncertainty, mixing honorifics and languages in a way that bypassed his brain entirely and struck straight at his heart.

"그래," he murmured into her hair, then with characteristic precision added, "Exclusively."

Her laugh carried notes of joy and residual shyness. "Then as your girlfriend, I should really clean up this mess..." She gestured at the scattered papers, the displaced furniture, the general dishevelment that spoke eloquently of the past hour's activities.

"As your boyfriend," his voice dropped to that commanding register that made her shiver, "I want to watch you do it[42]."

The drive home—his penthouse, by unspoken agreement—required exactly 17 minutes. Neither of them bothered to count.

—

[40] The building's security system would later note this as the longest recorded instance of the CEO remaining in office after hours, though the detailed logs were mysteriously corrupted.

[41] Internal HR protocols regarding workplace relationships were hastily updated the following morning, though no one questioned why the CEO personally oversaw these revisions.

[42] The night cleaning staff would arrive to find the office in unprecedented perfect order, though several employees would later swear they heard laughter and whispered Busan endearments echoing through the empty halls.

Fin

This genuinely is the greatest work I’ve ever made (literal hours of flow mode), I will never top this. I am also fine with that. Thank you. Love yall.

Lmk if you guys want part 2 👀

[official-wonho]

[240324] Wonho's Story Board 헛

훗

헷 나는 구슬아이스크림을 잔뜩 퍼먹어도 괜찮은 성인이 되었지 난 이런곳이 있는줄도 몰라써잉 대단한곳이더군… 아직 수련이 모자란가봐…그냥 30분만에 바로 구슬아이스크림 뜨러감… 밥에 배부르게하는 뭔가 특별한 후리카게라도 들어갔나… 들어간지 한시간만에 ?? 구슬아이스크림 두그릇 먹고 나온사람됨 들어가서 처음에 사람들이 디저트 뜨는걸 보고 훗 초보들… 아직 멀었군 닝겐들아 나를 봐라했는데 그냥 구슬아이스크림 자랑하는 사람됨 코너별로 한번씩 밖에 못갈줄은 몰랐음 나중에 힘들어서 구슬아이스크림 숫자 세고있었네요

Heut

Hoot

Het

I've become an adult who can eat a lot of Dippin' Dots ice cream

I didn't even know such a place existed

It was a great place… I think I need more training on this…I went to scoop up the Dippin' Dots only 30 minutes after I got there…

Was furikake that makes you full added on the rice...

I became a person who had two bowls of Dippin' Dots and came out (of the restaurant) after an hour ??

At first, I saw people eating dessert, so I snorted and I thought… All of you still have a long way to go. Look at me, humans.

But I'm just a person who brags about Dippin' Dots

I didn't know I could only go once to each section

Afterward, it was hard for me to eat, so I was counting them

Translation: official-wonho. Please take out with full credit.

[nabillera]

어머니의 진실과 만나기 전, 코르도나에서 미처 해결하지 못한 일들을 정리하는 셜록. 이번에는 운명의 숙적을 상대할 차례다.

자, 그래서 오늘 셜록의 발걸음이 향할 곳은

지도에 단 한 글자 'M'이라고만 적혀 있는 이 곳, 스칼라디오 북동쪽 시청 근처의 건물이다.

출발.

그동안 길을 생각만큼 샅샅이 ���고 다니지는 않았는지, 새 위치 알림을 만나는 일이 아직도 있다. 방금 지나온 교회는 형님의 남은 의뢰로 가게 될 곳일까, 아니면 그 근처 다른 장소를 찾기 위한 단서일 뿐이려나.

그리고 이어서 나타난 이 조각상은 혹시…?

그러나, 내 기대와 달리 이 조각상은 코르도나 보물 찾기와 아무 상관도 없었다. 수첩에서 본 것 같았는데 착각이었나 보군. 열심히 찾고 있지��, 오히려 그 때문에 문제의 장소가 눈에 더 안 들어오는지도 모르겠다. 그냥 코르도나 여행 사진 찍는 기분으로 다니는 편이 나을까. 이럴 때 사진 찍기 모드가 게임에 따로 있었으면 더 좋았을걸.

이윽고 M이 기다리고 있는 장소에 도착. 도착하자, 두 번째 새 위치 알림이 뜨면서 이 건물이 항만 관리소임을 알려 준다. 어라, 그런데 여기. 방금 수첩에서 본 보물 찾기 장소 아닌가?

역시나. 사진 속 화살표 방향에 마차 두 대가 주차돼 있고, 그중 하나에 감추인 보물이 보인다. 사진에서 동그라미 표시된 마차는 건물 앞마당이 아니라 오른쪽에 있는 것. 집중 모드 아니었으면 또 헤맬 뻔했네.

​그럼, 다시 건물 입구로 돌아와 M의 꿍꿍이를 알아볼까.

(가능성은 낮지만) M 본인이나 그의 심부름꾼이 아닐까 했더니, 여기서 셜록을 기다리고 있던 것은 형님의 수하였다. 동생이 요즘 어쩌고 있는지 뻔히 알면서, 안부는 무슨 안부?

비딱한 셜록의 반응에 당황하면서도, 그는 상사가 분부한 대로 용건을 전한다. 그 용건인즉, 최근 사고를 당한 자신의 요원 대신 그 요원이 전하기로 했던 기밀 문서를 찾아 갖다 달라는 것. 셜록은 형님의 일방적인 지시가 여전히 못마땅한 모양이지만, 기댈 언덕이 동생밖에 없다는데 뭐 어쩌겠어.

설명에 따르면, 요원은 스칼라디오 북서쪽 바스커빌 가와 리드 가의 교차로에서 사고를 당했다. 지도에서 위치를 확인해 보면, 대충 이 언저리?▼

경찰서에서 지척이군. 마침 가는 길목에 상점도 있으니, 산책 겸 장도 볼 겸 느긋이 걸어가면 되겠다.

상점에서 집안 물건 몇 개 택배 보내 놓고 현장으로 이동. 사고 지점에 구경꾼 몇 명과 경찰이 모여 있다. 시신이 그대로 있는 걸 보아, 사고가 일어난 시각은 그리 오래 되지 않은 듯하다.

우선 현장을 지키고 있는 경관에게 정보를 얻어 보자.

셜록을 본 경관은 그의 얼굴을 아는 듯 대뜸 팔라쪼 델 루소 사건을 언급한다. 음, 팔라쪼 델 루소 사건……이 근데 뭐였지? 셜록은 바로 "아, 그거" 하는 눈치인데. 내가 게임을 너무 오래 쉬었나.

현장 조사 허가를 요청하는 셜록에게 경관은 사건이 이미 종결됐다며, 여자를 죽인 인력거꾼을 체포하겠다 한다. 코르도나 경찰이 자신만만하게 나올 때는 항상 억울한 누명을 쓴 누군가가 있는 법.

하지만, 셜록은 그의 믿음에 딴지를 거는 대신, 적당히 비위를 맞춰 주는 방법으로 허가를 얻어 낸다.

그건 두고 봐야 알 일이죠, 경관님. 아무튼 협조해 주셔서 감사.

이제 시신을 살펴보자.

하녀 옷차림. 평소 코르도나 어느 귀족 집안에 위장 잠입이라도 해 있던 걸까.

사인은 후두부에 입은 상처로, 셜록의 말에 따르면 거의 즉사했을 것이라 한다. 경관이 앞서 인력거꾼을 언급했는데, 인력거꾼은 아닐 테니 단순한 교통 사고였을지도. 물론 제3자가 저지른 살인일 가능성도 아직은 염두에 둬야 한다.

시신 오른손 근처에 열쇠가 하나 떨어져 있고, 열쇠고리에 숫자 '2'가 새겨져 있다. 아마 그녀의 은신처나 문서를 숨겨 둔 장소의 열쇠가 아닐까. 챙겨 놓고.

시신의 목��� 걸린 원통형의 펜던트. 셜록의 짐작대로 안에 뭔가 들어 있다. 빈 쪽지? 옷에 주머니가 없지도 않은데 내용 없는 빈 ���이를 은밀한 장소에 넣어 다닌다고? 흠… 아무래도 시약이 필요한 때인 것 같군. 이따 수첩을 확인해 봐야겠다.

시신을 살핀 뒤 다른 현장 증거도 둘러보려는데, 어디선가 수상쩍은 대화가 들려 온다. 아니, 저 경찰 양반이 지금 무슨 소릴 하는 거지?

정의감 넘치는 절친은 이번에도 그냥 지나치지 못하고, 인력거꾼을 위해 사건의 경위를 제대로 밝히자 한다. 그래, 셜록의 경력에 오점을 남기지 않기 위해서라도 이런 일은 그냥 넘어갈 수 없지. 그럼 다시 집중 모드로…

면밀한 조사 끝에, 셜록은 길을 걷던 피해자가 비탈에서 빠르게 내려오던 인력거를 피하지 못해 난 사고라고 결론을 내린다. 피해자가 인력거꾼을 못 봤을 리 없다고 존은 의문을 제기하지만,

어쩐지 처음 현장에 들어설 때부터 저건 뭔가 싶더라니. 셜록은 피해자가 때마침 떨어진 화분에 놀라 고개를 돌리는 바람에 인력거를 보지 못했으리라 추측한다. 그런데, 정말로 우연의 일치였을 뿐일까? '그 남자'가 어떤 형태로든 이 사건에 엮여 있을 게 뻔한 상황에서 말이지. 흐흥…

아무튼 이걸로 인력거꾼의 누명은 벗겨 줄 수 있겠다. 경관에게 돌아가자.

셜록은 자신이 알아 낸 사건의 경위를 경관에게 전하며, 살인이 아닌 단순한 사고였을 가능성이 크다고 한다. 그러나 셜록의 추리를 헛소리로 일축해 버리는 경관. 뭐라고요? 사실 관계가 다르다고요?

사실. 사실 관계라.

진짜 사실을 앞세운 셜록의 반박에 결국 경관은 인력거꾼을 풀어 주기로 한다. 진작 이렇게 나올 것이지. 꼭 망신을 당해 봐야 정신을 차리나.

​불쌍한 사람을 구했다고 순수히 기뻐하는 존. 반면, 셜록의 태도는 다소 냉정하다.

그러니까, 인력거꾼이 불쌍해서 도와 줬다기보다 진실을 위해 행동했다는 건가. 뭐, 진실을 우선하는 탐정으로서 충분히 나올 수 있는 반응 같기는 하다. 한편으로는 셜록답기도 하고.

​자, 요원의 죽음에 얽힌 진실을 밝혀 낸 것까진 좋은데, 형님이 원한 ��밀 문서는 어디서 찾아야 할까. 참, 그러고 보니 좀 전에 시신에서 수상한 쪽지를 발견했더랬지.

화학 분석을 마치자, 예상대로 빈 쪽지에 감추인 내용이 드러난다. 스칼라디오 북서쪽, 라이헨바흐 가와 허드소네티 가의 건널목. 새 표시를 찾아라? 분명 이것이 그녀가 기밀 문서를 숨긴 장소를 가리키는 단서일 것이다.

스칼라디오 북쪽, 라이헨바흐와 허드소네티… 출발 전, 지도로 대강 위치를 점찍어 두고,

가 보자.

[noomynuss]

안도 타다오가 설계하고 이세이 미야케가 만든 디자인 뮤지엄, 도쿄 여행에서 가장 가고 싶은 곳이었다.

20/20 vision의 사전적 의미는 ‘아주 좋은 시력’으로, 20피트 거리에 있는 물체를 선명하게 볼 수 있는 완벽한 시력을 뜻하는 말로 사용 ��다.

숫자 21과 21 사이의 거리는 사람의 눈과 눈 사이의 공간을 은유하는데, 한쪽 눈만으로눈 균형 잡힌 시각을 갖기 어렵다. 서로 적당한 거리를 두고, 편견 없는 마음으로 사물을 관찰하는 것이 중요하다는 의미의 로고도 참 마음에 든다.

[at-1point]

나이에 숫자 하나 더해진 게 뭔 대수겠어. 사람은 한 명의 예외 없이 다 늙고 죽음을 향해 걸어가. 육신은 낡아져가지만 영혼은 자유롭게. 어두운 충동보다는 내 안에 독특한 전율을 자주 느끼는 한 해가 되길.

[raanggym-blog]

"EmojiEgg" is a website that conveniently gathers a wide variety of emojis, offering an easy one-click method to use them.

It has emojis neatly categorized into various groups like hearts, stars, love, faces, expressions, animals, summer, winter, gestures, parties, cats, sports, food, and weather, making it simple to find and use the emoji you need.

If you frequently use emojis, this is a recommended site that you might find useful to visit.

[hangulteam]

체체체 체인지~

🌟 새 기능

커뮤니티 댓글 글자 수 한도를 2,000자로 올렸어요. 새 댓글 스레드 기능처럼 일단 테스트 중!

🛠️ 수정

폐쇄된 커뮤니티 활동 항목이 내 블로그 활동 피드에 더는 안 보여요.

웹 스크린리더가 블로그 헤더 & 포스트 헤더를 개별 배지마다 안내하지 않고, 이제 “배지 (숫자)개"로 읽습니다.

🚧  작업 중

오늘은 없어요~

🌱  공개 예정

오늘은 없어요!

뭔가 이상한 점이 있다면? 지원팀에 (영어로) 문의하면 최대한 빨리 연락드릴게요!

피드백을 보내려면? 진행 중 (Work in Progress) 블로그에서 대화를 시작하세요.

Tumblr를 직접 후원하려면? TumblrMart에서 새 서포터즈 배지를 확인해 보세요!

[cho-yongchul]

흠.. 오늘 아침에 매장을 열면서 보니까 우리가 쓰는 배달 어플중

요기요는 빨간색 ..

배민 1은 파란색에 1자까지 있는뒈..

이번에 어는 빨간당에서 MBC를 파란색 숫자 1을.방송에 내보냈다고 사전선거로 물고 늘어졌다는데 .

그럼 배민 1 이용자는 모두 민주고 요기요 이용자는 모두 국짐인가..?

그 빨간당 사고방식으로 치면 그런데.... ?

그럼 배민 1과 요기요를 비롯해서 여러 어플을 사용하는 업주들은 뭐여..?

이건 어떻게 정리해야 하지..?

요기요 해지해야 하나... ?

그냥 ���득 홀연히 생각나서 한번 쓸대없는 소리 해봤어요 ㅎㅎㅎㅎ

설마 양쪽에서 고소고발 들어오는거 아니지.. ?

정치인들은 네놈들 편의대로 국민들 갈라치기 하지말고 시장에 와서 친한척 하지마라 아주 역겹다 이것들아

#광명전통시장 #광명시장 #전통시장 #추천맛집 #광명왕족발 #광명할머니왕족발 은 #광명소셜상점 #광명8경 #광명동굴 #광명시 #LocalGuides 와 함께 합니다

[power-777]

파워볼사이트 검증,분석,노하우,추천 검증 1위

파워볼이란? 파워검증원입니다. 여러분! 파워볼이란, 5분마다 추천하는 추첨식 복권 게임이며 매일 288회차 게임이 진행됩니다.

매 회차마다 숫자 1~28 일반볼 5개 0~9 파워볼 1개 총 6개의 볼을 추첨으로 이루어진 숫자선택 게임 입니다

사설토토,사설카지노 사이트에서 운영하는 파워 볼은 전자복권의 결과값을 그대로 가지고 오면서 일반공 숫자의 합 홀짝게임, 언더 오버게임, 보너스공으로만 하는 홀짝게임, 언오버게임 등을 배팅을할수있는 게임을 말합니다

[ywkm]

광화문에서 안국으로 향하는 길이었다.

독일어를 공부하기 시작해 숫자를 셀 수 있다며 친구들에게 하나 둘 셋 차근차근 손가락을 접어가며 소리 내어 세기 시작했다. 광화문 월대를 지나쳐 갈 때 즈음 접혀가던 손가락이 그대로 멈췄다. 무언가 하나가 빠졌다. 다시 하나, 둘, 셋 … 그 순간 어딘가에서 ‘넷’이 조용한 목소리 위로 비집고 들어온다. 2초간 사고가 정지되고 숨죽여 있던 기억이 불쑥 튀어 올랐다. 내가 잊고 있던 숫자였다. 스치듯 그러나 귀에 정확히 꽂히는 소리에 눈이 휘둥그레져 고개를 들어 돌아봤다. 알아들었구나 - 하는 얼굴을 하고 있는 한 독일 남자가 여유를 머금은 미소를 지어보이며 나와 눈을 맞췄다. 급한 대로 thank you를 외치고 얼떨떨한 얼굴로 몇 번을 뒤돌아 봤다. 독일어를 모르는 친구들 마저도 그 순간 직감으로 알아차리고 내게 물었다. 방금 알려준 거죠! 하며. 알고 보니 나는 넷을 빼먹은 채로 하나 둘 셋 그리고 다섯을 외고 있었다.

장소와 시간, 햇빛, 바람, 상황까지 모든 것이 완벽했다. 그 때 내가 그 자리를 지나지 않았더라면, 걷지 않고 버스를 타고 갔더라면, 그 사람이 나의 대화를 듣지 않고, 혹은 듣고도 그저 지나쳐 갔더라면. 그렇게 이름 모를 누군가가 영화 같은 순간을 선물해주고 갔다. 숫자 vier을 셀 때마다 기억될 소중한 추억이 오늘 나에게 온 것이다. eins, zwei, drei, fünf… vier!

[iamkenlee-blog]

"항구 출신이자 춤꾼"

마포 FM 지역 라디오 '불멸의 탱고음악'이 2024년 방송을 내보내며 시그널을 바꾸셨더만.

작년까진 쁘란씨스꼬 까나로가 작사 및 작곡한 '매혹의 땅고(=Tango brujo)'였고, 올해부턴 까를로스 디 살리가 작곡한 '항구 출신이자 춤꾼(=Porteño y bailarín)'.

뽀르떼뇨(Porteño)는 당연히 땅고 발상지인 보카항을 가리키는 말일 거고, 바일라린(Bailarín)는 발레와 어원이 같은 'baile'의 변형.

직역하면 "항구 출신과 춤꾼" 두 사람처럼 보이지만, 가사를 번역기로 살펴본 정황으론 항구 출신이면서 동시에 춤꾼인 사람이 땅고 음악을 예찬하는 자기 고백 같은 내용으로 보임.

"항구 출신이자 춤꾼. 로맨틱하고 달콤한 음악이 나를 땅고와 한 몸이 되게 했다. 바이올린 소리가 내 마음을 끌리게 하고, 멜랑콜리한 반도네온 소리에 푹 빠졌다…"

방송 시그널은 1945년에 디 살리가 가수 호르헤 듀란과 녹음한 게 나왔다. 디 살리는 1952년에 마리오 뽀마르와 한 번 더 녹음했다.

방송이 나간 후에는 팟빵이라는 팟캐스트에 올라오기 때문에 마포구 주민이 아니라도 들을 수 있다. 근데 디제이께서 밝힌 구독자 수가 50명 조금 넘는다고 함. 나처럼 팟빵앱 설치하기 싫어서 구독하지 않고 매번 mp3를 다운받아 듣는 사람을 감안해도 최대 백 명을 넘진 않을 듯. 본인은 "적지 않은 아주 의미 있는 숫자"라고 하셨으나 동시에 국내 땅고 음악 감상 저변이 얼마나 마이너한지를 보여주는 지표처럼 보인다.

현재 홍대, 강남, 분당 등 수도권에서 운영 중인 밀롱가 개수와 내가 여기저기 돌아다닐 때마다 매번 낯익은 얼굴이 겹친단 점으로 추정컨대 서울내 땅고 인구는 아마도 천명 내외일 거로 예상. 다시 말해 서울 인구 980만 + 경기도 인구 1,300만 = 총 2,280만 중 땅고 취미가 있는 사람이 천여 명.

밀롱가를 안 다니면서 방송 듣는 사람도 없진 않겠지만 아마도 극소수일 거고 드나드는 사람들이 대부분 구독했을 테니, 천명 중 10% 이내가 방송을 듣고 있다는 얘기.

이런 근거를 제시하면 혹자는 땅고 인구 훨씬 더 늘려야 한다 할 분도 있겠지만, 나는 본디 마이너 문화에 이끌리는 성향이라 현재로서도 충분히 만족하는 편. 외려 인구가 너무 늘면 덕질하는 재미와 흥미가 떨어질지도 모르겠다. 물론 그렇더라도 땅고를 그만둘 정도는 아니겠지만.

[koreanaswego]

Korean Word of the Day

숫자

Numbers

[fybriankang]

day6_kisstheradio: 🌙 230916 키스더라디오 📂이번주 영디 셀카 모음.zip 숫자 공부하라고 손가락으로 숫자 만드신 건가요? 그렇다면 실패입니다. 얼굴만 보이거든요. 존재 자체가 브랜드인 쿨 앤 핸썸 앤 뷰티풀 앤 골져스한 영디 셀카 왔어요✨ 내일 밤 10시에도 영디와 함께 하실거죠?❣️ #데이식스의키스더라디오 #데키라 #영케이 #영디 #데이식스

[purewhitewolf]

[w38304n6v6ql]

위의 예시라이브바카라에서 20판동안 20만원을 딴 경우 그는 플레이어에 약 1억원의 돈을 배팅하였고 딜러를 포함한 구경라이브바카라꾼들 모두는 일절 숙연해지게 됩니다. 2 배 정도는 단 세번 온카지노회원가입만에 만들수 가 있습니다. 어떤 카지노에서는 실제로 인슈어런스 벳카지노톡온카지노을 하지 않아도 지불해 주는 데, 최대 6에서 7구멍까지 이용할수 있으니 혼자 독다이를 차지하고 안전바카라있을때는 최소 500페소에서 최대 48000~56000페소까지는 배팅이 가능하다는 것 이다. 줄은 플레이어 또는 뱅커가 연온카지노kwp52속적으로 나오는 현상을 말합니다. 처음 소유한 2장의 카드의 숫자가 똑온카지노회원가입『 WA702．ＣＯＭ 』같다는 것에 배팅하는 것입니다. 세 개의 주사위가 네 개의 바카라필승법숫자조합 중 세 개의 숫자와 일치할 경우 모든 베팅은 테이바카라게임사이트＼【 WA702．ＣＯＭ 】＼블 리미트 내에서 이루어져야 합니다. 그렇기 때문에 이 전략을 사용하바카라게임사이트기 위해서는 충분한 돈이 있어야 합니다. “이기는 방법”은 어떤 온라인카지노운영카지노 게임과 마찬가지로 바카라 게임에도 존재한다. 메가벅스, "엘비스",  "Whe안전바카라el"등 20∼1,000개 코인을 보너스로 주는 이전에 얼마나 많은 상금이 지카지노커뮤니티급됐는지 여부 또한 잭팟과 관련이 없다. 구체적인 설명을 드리우리카지노총판다보면 글이 너무 길어지니까 하지만 그 다른 배팅 들(정확한 숫자 맞추기,

[i8824jx9qqb0]

씨우씨우 (소소) :온카지노이벤트 작은 숫자 떠라 라는 말 라스베가스 카지노의 다이사이바카라게임룰은 거의 동일 합니다. 이 글을 부디 온라인카지노운영천천히 깊게 생각하여 주시기를 부탁드립니다. 사활을 걸어야하고 온카지노뉴스1000원짜리 하나 쉽게 사용하면 안됩니다. 맥시멈은 한판에 배팅할 수 있는 최대 금액, 안전카지노사이트미니멈은 한판에 배팅할 수 있는 최소의 금액을 말합니다. 다시 말해 고객은 누적배팅액 HKD18,0000 불을 한것이고 카지노에 이정슬롯커뮤니티도의 배팅 을 한 것 입니다. 딜러 또는 도박 대 책임자 주사위를 굴리기 전에 모든 베팅이vic카지노 이루어 지도록 테이블에 있습니다. 많이 따온카지노사이트＼【 WA702．ＣＯＭ 】＼면 먹튀하는 곳이 바로 국내 사설 사이트들이니까요! 우선 마카오 카지노의 단점은 강원랜드와 상반되게도 ‘가온카지노이벤트볍게 즐길 수 없다’는 점입니다. 여기서 플레이어는 카드를 교부받기 전바카라게임에 다양한 옵션으로 배팅할 수 있습니다. 우선 국내 사설 바카라 사이트들은 빅스몰 시스템 배팅을 포함한 모든 찍실시간바카라사이트어먹는 배팅에 규제를 가합니다. 플레이한국어온라인카지노어가 카드를 받기를 원할때 사용 (히트와 같은뜻) 그렇기 때문에 최대한 사람이 적은 시간대를 이용하여 조용하게 게한국어온라인카지노임을 즐기는 것이 낫습니다. 대개 온라인 카지노에서만 사용가능한 실시간바카라사이트방법이며, 플레이어가 직접 카드를 오픈한다는 재미와 긴장감이 있습니다. 1950년대 후반, 미국 라스온라인카지노운영베가스에 있는 샌즈 카지노에 바카라 게임이 등장합니다.