NTR Massage Parlour: A Wellness Technique Guide

Yohan secretly trailed her all the way back to her lodge, slipping from one shadow to the next. He moved carefully, quietly, never letting her notice the dark shape tailing her steps.

When she finally disappeared into her apartment building, he stepped out of hiding and exhaled.

’Now that I know where she stays... what next?’

His original plan stopped here—just locate her. But now he had to figure out how to confirm if his suspicions were right.

And he was almost certain. The resemblance was too strong. She looked far too much like the girl in the photos for it to be a coincidence.

’I could just keep following her until she returns ”home”... but that could take weeks... Or I could confront her. Ask directly. Maybe even call out her name...’

A faint whistle cut through the air.

A blade grazed the side of his neck.

Yohan froze, breath catching in his chest. His blood felt like it turned to ice, and even his sweat stopped halfway down his skin.

”Who are you,” a woman’s voice said coldly from behind him, ”and why have you been following her?”

He didn’t dare move, but his throat refused to form words.

”You have three seconds before you lose your neck.”

’What the hell did I walk into? Is she one of her bodyguards?’

”One...”

’Shit... why didn’t I think someone might be protecting her?’ Yohan clenched his teeth, pulse hammering in his ears.

”Two...”

’Should I move? Maybe I can stop her from cutting too deep...’

But one glance at the cold gleam of the blade brushing his skin killed the idea instantly.

”Thr—”

”I was sent by Hatoru!” he blurted out, voice cracking with desperation.

The blade stopped.

”The boss himself sent you?” she asked, a flicker of hesitation in her tone.

Yohan forced his breathing to steady. ”Yeah. I was sent by the boss.”

”Why?” Her brows knit together, suspicion still sharp.

”...To check on Izumi,” he said, letting the lie drop smoothly.

She stayed silent for a few seconds, eyes narrowed as if running every word through a mental filter. Then, at last, she lowered the blade.

”The boss didn’t tell me he was sending anyone,” she said, sliding the weapon cleanly under her suit and into the holster strapped beneath.

Yohan released a breath so quietly it barely stirred the air.

’I can’t believe that actually worked...’

He finally turned around.

The woman who had nearly slit his throat stood rigidly, assessing him with icy precision. A striking European beauty, clad in a fitted black suit, with sharp grey eyes that matched the steel of her hair.

”Wait,” she said, tilting her head slightly, ”what did you say your name was again?”

”Yohan.”

”Hm.” Her gaze sharpened. ”I don’t recall the boss ever mentioning anyone by that name. When did you start working for him?”

”It hasn’t been too long, actually,” he said, forcing an easy smile as a nervous laugh slipped out. ”Maybe that’s why...”

Her expression did not soften.

If anything—her suspicion grew.

Her brows dipped down, as she continued to stare at him for a few seconds before she pulled out the long knife under suit and stabbed directly at his face in one swift motion.

It happened so fast Yohan barely registered the motion—just the glint of steel and the instinct to survive.

He caught the blade a mere inch from his eyes.

Pain shot through his palm as the edge bit into his skin, warm blood sliding down his wrist and dripping onto the floor. She pushed, trying to drive it forward, but Yohan held her off with sheer desperation until she finally jerked back, releasing the pressure.

Only then did he unclench his bleeding hand.

”If you only just started working for him,” she snapped, ”there’s no way he’d mention the precious Lady Izumi to you. So tell me—who exactly are you?”

Yohan looked down at the cut across his palm, wincing as the open air hit it.

”So that’s enough reason to attack me?” he muttered, sarcasm slipping through despite the sting.

Then he sighed. ”So she is actually Izumi. I was wondering how I was going to confirm that.”

Her expression twisted with fury.

”You bastard! I’m not letting you walk out of here alive.”

She hurled herself at him. The blade sliced through the air with lethal precision—but Yohan tracked her movements easily. He stepped back to avoid the first strike, then ducked as she twisted her grip and brought the weapon around again, missing him by only a few inches.

Yohan had been in enough real fights to recognize someone dangerous—someone very well trained. The way she shifted her hold on the blade, adjusting angles fluidly with her wrist alone, told him everything he needed to know.

This wasn’t a normal bodyguard. She was an assassin.

At least—that’s what he thought.

Her assaults didn’t slow. If anything, they became sharper, faster, more ruthless. Yohan kept stepping back, dodging, weaving—but always hesitating.

’She’s a woman... that’s why I’m finding it hard to hit her’

His hesitation nearly cost him.

Her blade hissed past his neck, close enough for him to feel the cold kiss of metal brush his skin. A half-inch closer and his head would’ve rolled.

That jolted him.

’Fuck all that!’

Yohan grabbed her wrist mid-swing. Her eyes widened—shocked that he’d been able to catch an attack that fast.

She immediately threw a punch with her free hand, but Yohan yanked her forward, using her momentum against her. In one fluid motion he spun her around, forcing her arms behind her back, crossing both wrists and pinning them together with practiced precision.

Then he pressed his thumbs firmly into the inner sides of her hands—right where her Calm vein was located.

’Normally this is supposed to be used to make a person calmer, but if I do it with both hands and hold it long enough...’

She struggled for a bit but then her strength began to fade, until she finally passed out totally.

Yohan caught her before she collapsed, one arm wrapped around her waist to stop her from hitting the ground.

What do I even do with her...?

He held her there for a moment, thinking. His first instinct was to take her back to his house—better than leaving her unconscious in the middle of the road.

’But how the hell am I supposed to carry a knocked-out woman all the way home? Anyone who sees me will think I’m some kind of creep’

He clicked his tongue in frustration.

After a bit of pacing and cursing internally, he finally came up with the only solution he could think of—and called Anthony.

A few minutes later, headlights washed over the street as Yohan’s car pulled up. Anthony stumbled out with a grin plastered on his face.

”Yohan, why’d you tell me to rush over like that? I was just starting to hit it off with two hotties,” he complained dramatically.

Yohan’s nose twitched.

”...Wait. Were you drinking?”

The smell of alcohol answered for him.

”I’m coming from a party,” Anthony said with a shrug, ”what did you expect?”

”How did you manage to drive then?” Yohan asked, genuinely worried.

Anthony patted the roof of the car proudly. ”Relax. It’s not that far away. And I’m a very skilled driver, you see...”

Yohan bent over and lifted the unconscious woman, her body propped awkwardly against the wall just moments earlier.

Anthony froze.

His eyes widened in shock... then confusion... then a hint of fear.

”Uh—Yohan...?” he stammered.

”Help me get the door,” Yohan said casually, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Anthony hurried to follow but kept glancing between Yohan and the woman like his brain was trying to catch up.

”Yohan... who’s she?”

”Oh.” Yohan didn’t miss a beat. ”She’s a friend. We... uh... know each other from somewhere. She had a little too much to drink, and I don’t know her house, so I’m taking her back to mine.”

Anthony blinked. ”Don’t you think we should take her to a hospital instead?”

”No, no—it’s nothing serious,” Yohan assured him quickly. ”She asked me to take her home before she passed out. Everything’s fine.”

Anthony still looked uneasy, but Yohan was his friend—someone he knew wouldn’t do anything shady or insane like kidnapping a woman. So he swallowed his doubts and opened the backseat door.

Yohan laid her down gently, making sure her head rested safely against the seat.

Then he shut the door, got behind the wheel, and drove them quietly back to their building.

When they arrived, he had to move carefully—checking corners, listening for footsteps—making sure no one saw him carrying an unconscious woman into the complex.

Meanwhile, Anthony walked straight to his room, collapsed on his bed, and fell asleep instantly—like a drunk log thrown onto a mattress.

It took nearly an hour before she finally stirred.

By then, Yohan had already tied her wrists and ankles with improvised rope he’d found around the apartment. She struggled the moment she woke, twisting and pulling, but the knots held firm.

When she lifted her head, she found Yohan sitting on the edge of the bed, calmly watching her fight against the restraints.

”You—what is this? Where did you take me?” she snapped, anger flaring in her eyes.

”Relax,” Yohan said, raising his hands slightly. ”I only brought you here because I wasn’t about to leave you lying unconscious on the road. College creeps are the worst kind, you know.”

”Shut up, and tell me what you want.”

He tilted his head. ”Do you want me to shut up or tell you what I want? Because I can’t do both.”

She glared daggers at him. ”You want to hurt Lady Izumi, don’t you?”

Yohan sighed, long and tired. ”I never said that.”

”Well, it doesn’t matter,” she hissed, her voice sharp as broken glass. ”Because the moment you free me, I’ll cut your throat.”

Yohan stood slowly, a small, confident smirk pulling at his lips.

”I don’t think so.”

He crouched in front of her, leaning in without breaking eye contact. Each inch forward made her breath hitch.

”W-What are you trying to do?” she said, turning her head away, trying to retreat—except there was nowhere left to go. Her back was already pressed against the wall.

Yohan didn’t stop.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as his face came close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.

And then—

their lips met.

Her eyes shot wide open.

’Wh-what is this?’