Chapter 1.
Prologue
The Who’s App notification went off.
[10 p.m. tonight, your dorm.]
“Again……”
I sighed while looking for reference books in the library.
The sender of the message was Elias again. Wasn’t what happened yesterday enough?
Of course, I knew about my own genius. I had lived as myself for 20 years.
However, even I, a once-in-a-generation genius who would be remembered throughout human history, did not know one thing.
The fact that I was exceptionally good in bed.
After that day, Elias had gone crazy over me. I was grateful that he liked me, but at this rate, I felt like my body wouldn’t be able to take it.
I casually shoved my phone into my pocket and tried to convince myself otherwise.
“I didn’t see it. I didn’t see this message.”
A little while later.
Bzz, bzzzz.
My phone started vibrating like crazy. The vibration was so loud that it seemed like it would break through my pocket.
“Haa……”
I took my phone out again to put it on silent. As soon as I unlocked the screen, preview notifications appeared one after another.
[I need you. I have an important performance tomorrow.]
[Are you really going to do this to me?]
[It’s all because of you.]
[You have to take responsibility.]
[It won’t go down. I’m telling you, it hurts so much I’m going to die.]
He was going to die?
“This is really my fate……”
Elias, the star of the King’s College Choir and a genius mathematician, had become like this entirely because of me.
Because of that, he kept talking about responsibility and calling me out like this. I never thought I would actually experience reaction formation and compensatory overreaction in real life.
[Okay. 10 p.m., the dorm.]
I had no choice but to accept his proposal.
As soon as he saw my message, his reply arrived almost instantly.
[Take a shower and wait for me. I’m really desperate.]
After that last message, I didn’t hear from him for a while.
“I shouldn’t have suggested doing that experiment……”
Was it useless to regret it now?
I put down the book I was holding and returned to my dorm.
After taking a shower and waiting for a while, it was exactly 10 p.m. when a message from Elias arrived.
[I’m in front of the dorm.]
[Okay, I’m coming out now.]
Since it was late and there was no one around, I stepped out through the entrance. Elias immediately came toward me.
He reached out with his large hand, grabbed my waist, and immediately pressed his lips against my neck.
“I missed you so, so much.”
Kiss, kiss.
His hot breath and saliva dampened the back of my neck. A ticklish shiver ran down my spine.
“Ha, ah…… Wait a moment.”
I tried to push him away with both hands, but he didn’t move at all.
Instead, he dragged his lips down along my neck and began biting my collarbone.
He moved one step closer to my body and pulled down the zipper of the hoodie I was wearing.
“Ah, no. Mr. Elias. Not here……”
“I can’t either. I can’t hold back anymore.”
Growling like a starving beast, he began roughly squeezing my chest with his other hand.
I covered my mouth with both hands to stop the moan that almost escaped and spoke hesitantly.
It was the only way to calm him down.
“Inside, inside the room. Let’s do it there. I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”
His lips curved into a smile.
Under the streetlight, his bright blue eyes grew dark.
What Is Sex?
What is sex?
If I knew the answer, I wouldn’t be going through all this trouble right now.
It had been three days since I came to the shopping district in front of King’s College to look for a suitable face.
During that time, I had been observing the faces of men passing by.
There was only one reason I was doing this so early in the morning.
I was looking for my “muse.”
“Jung Sarang, you idiot! Why did you choose that as your topic?”
Everything had started with a conversation I had with Professor Cohen of Psychological Philosophy last semester.
“I think romantic feelings are caused by social and psychological factors. Pure desire doesn’t exist. Whether it’s Spinoza’s conatus or Lacan’s structure of lack, in the end, it’s all just a reflection of social context.”
Professor Cohen’s eyebrows rose at my creative idea.
“Miss Jung Sarang. Your argument is interesting, but what is the empirical evidence? A theory that has never been observed cannot be verified.”
“It’s an undergraduate graduation thesis. Isn’t theoretical consistency enough? And I’m the top student in my year. Someone like me can’t be wrong.”
Professor Cohen clicked his tongue and stared at me.
His eyes looked as if he were looking at a beginner who couldn’t even tell the difference between phenomenological intuition and an empirical attitude.
“Shouldn’t there at least be a few cases to establish the consistency of your argument? A philosophy student shouldn’t spend all her time playing with concepts.”
With those words, Professor Cohen practically kicked me out of his office, treating me like an inexperienced idealist.
How dare he.
Me.
Jung Sarang, the once-in-a-generation genius who entered Cambridge’s Philosophy Department early at the age of 17, and the beautiful study goddess who had made headlines.
That day, I chose the title of my undergraduate thesis:
“On the Discursive Structure of Desire, the Construction of the Body and Corruption.”
In other words, I intended to prove to Professor Cohen that I was right.
But there was one huge problem with my plan.
“I’m seriously crazy. I haven’t even had sex……”
Sitting on the railing in front of Newton’s apple tree, I stomped my feet in anger at my own stupidity.
“I shouldn’t have told Professor Cohen I was going to write this……”
When I was eight years old, I realized I was gifted as soon as I entered elementary school.
For the next twelve years, I devoted myself entirely to studying.
During that time, I gave up not only sex, but even the natural sexual curiosity that came with puberty, in exchange for studying.
I had absolutely no dating experience.
I had never even been interested in celebrities or handsome people.
And yet I had thought I could write a thesis about individual and social sexual desire.
Of course, I was now stuck before I could even properly establish the theory.
The reason I couldn’t continue my thesis was simple.
I had never experienced sexual desire.
Fortunately, there was a solution to this problem.
I just had to experience sexual desire.
Every year at the end of the year, King’s College Choir performed Christmas carols together with Great St Mary’s Church in Cambridge.
Tourists came pouring into Cambridge to watch the performance, and because of that, the university grounds were crowded with people these days.
That meant there were more men around who might make me feel sexual desire.
“Today, I really have to feel it. Sexual desire.”
I grabbed the sleeve of my hoodie and wiped my running nose.
The fact that my mucus was clear meant that it was extremely cold.
Britain was less cold than Korea, but it was still November.
In other words, this was not weather for suffering outside in search of a muse.
The sun above my head began to sink behind Cambridge’s tall spires.
“Waaaaah!”
I screamed loudly and messed up my hair, which I hadn’t washed for several days, with both hands.
As I stamped my feet, I heard students passing by whispering.
“Is that her?”
“Yeah. The crazy girl from Emma College. Shh, don’t make eye contact.”
I sighed as I watched an East Asian female student dramatically cover her mouth with her finger.
How stupid must I look right now?
Should I have found another way instead of using such an ignorant method?
Maybe I should have just focused on my theoretical argument.
Sigh.
Let’s just make up a hypothesis and finish this, like a high school student who studied Ethics and Thought really hard.
It was okay to have one mistake in my life.
Even if I couldn’t graduate with honors, winning the Nobel Prize twice would probably erase it.
“Yeah. Mistakes made when you’re young can become legends.”
Right.
It’s cold.
Let’s just go home.
I got up and started walking toward Emmanuel College, where my dorm room was.
Ding, ding.
Then I heard the sound of a bicycle bell directly behind me.
“Ah! You scared me!”
Some middle-aged man had dangerously squeezed through the crowd on a fixie bike and rung his bell right behind me.
As expected of Cambridge, the city of bicycles.
There were even bicycle gangsters.
I clicked my tongue as I watched the bicycle quickly disappear.
That was when a man passed right in front of me.
He was Latino, with a small build and dark skin.
“Huh?”
My eyes were drawn to the clothes he was wearing.
A red gown and a pure white robe.
It was the choir uniform of the King’s College Choir.
“If he’s in the King’s College Choir, then he’s a King’s College student, right?”
I remembered watching a King’s College Choir performance on TV around New Year’s.
There had definitely been many objectively handsome Western-looking men there.
If he was a Cambridge student, his intellectual level should be comparable to mine.
“…The soloist.”
I suddenly remembered someone who had been especially handsome.
A blond man who had sung with a clear voice.
“Yeah, if it’s that guy, maybe he’ll turn me on……”
There were 93.5 days left until my thesis deadline.
At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to submit my thesis on time.
I might even have to return the research scholarship I had received from the privately funded college under the excuse of writing my graduation thesis.
If I didn’t take action now, the D-Day would only get closer.
“Yeah. It’s worth trying the experiment.”
I lowered my body and followed the Latino man.
The man headed toward King’s College Chapel with other people wearing robes, carrying a coffee carrier.
Was the choir performing today?
In front of the chapel, there were many men wearing the same white robes as the Latino man.
Among them, one man stood out especially.
“Found him.”
Bright blue eyes, perfectly symmetrical features, a tall body, and shining blond hair.
The soloist from the TV was standing right in front of me.
I couldn’t tell how big his body was because of the robe, but he looked quite large too……
“Target acquired.”
The choir entered the chapel.
I quickly followed behind them.
“Hehe, hehehe…… I’ll seduce you, Blondie.”
I reached the tall main entrance of the firmly closed chapel.
Just as I pulled open the side door to enter, an elderly security guard came out from inside the chapel.
“What are you doing?”
“Ah. Well…… I have some business.”
“The chapel is currently reserved. Visitors aren’t allowed inside.”
The guard answered in a businesslike tone and pulled out a sign from inside the chapel.
It said:
“Closed to Visitors.”
“King’s College Choir just went inside.”
“Yes, because the choir reserved it. Please come back when it reopens to visitors tomorrow.”
“Oh, no. I have to go inside.”
“Ah, are you a member of the staff?”
At the guard’s question, I shook my head firmly.
“Cambridge is a sanctuary for researchers, by researchers, and for researchers.”
“Pardon?”
“I am a student researching the origins of human sexual desire and social pressure based on the theories of Foucault and Judith Butler.”
The security guard blinked at me.
Had he already sensed the depth of my knowledge?
As expected of Cambridge. Even the security guards were extraordinary.
“Therefore, I am not an outsider.”
“What? What did you say?”
I straightened my body, which I had been keeping low.
Then I pulled out the undergraduate research scholarship receipt that I had carefully folded inside my hoodie pocket.
I had been carrying it around every day because I was so proud after receiving it.
“This is the receipt for the research scholarship paid by the university. Please step aside. I am a researcher recognized by Cambridge. Everything I am doing is for the advancement of human knowledge. If you show me some consideration today, future generations will remember you as a security guard with great insight.”
“Ha…… another student with a psychotic episode……”
The guard sighed and moved aside.
Then he added one more thing.
“Well, I’m retiring next month anyway.”
The Goddess of Fate was smiling at me!
I quickly bowed deeply toward him.
“Thank you, sir. Humanity in this lifetime has been saved through you.”
As I entered the chapel, I gave the guard a thumbs-up.
The guard only gave me a bitter smile.
