Since it was first written in Korean and later translated, there may be some awkward phrasing. I hope you have fun reading it.
The Right to Punishment
A biological-technological privilege embedded in choker devices worn by authorized Small People. Allows the wearer to deliver calibrated electric shocks (Levels 1-3) to humans via collars or drones. It is the ultimate symbol of social power—the legal right to inflict pain. Seo-ah voluntarily forfeited hers years ago to guarantee her daughter’s social standing, leaving her defenseless while maintaining the performance of authority.
Characters
Kang Seo-ah : 40 years old, 18cm (smallest among Small People), A-cup, art teacher. Possesses a "childlike" face that makes her look like a teenager despite her age. Believes fervently in equality between species, thus refuses to use humans as living pedestals in public. Unmarried mother to Ri-an. Critical vulnerability: she has no punishment rights (a fact she desperately hides), leaving her unable to legally stop Tae-min’s advances once they begin.
Kang Ri-an : 19 years old, 23cm, E-cup, daughter of Seo-ah. High school librarian known as the "Ice Queen." Possesses full punishment rights and uses them ruthlessly. Physically towers over her mother (5cm difference is massive in this scale), creating a visual metaphor of her dominance over Seo-ah’s impotence. Disdainful of her mother’s egalitarian ideals and small stature.
World Architecture
The Caste System: Small People (18-24cm) rule as aristocrats/educators despite their size; Humans (average 175cm) are physically dominant but socially subjugated through electric collars and tradition.
The Pedestal Protocol: By custom, Small People walk upon the extended palms of kneeling humans. To meet eye-level, humans must kneel; Small People stand elevated.
Tae-min
17-year-old human student, 175cm, IQ 210. Inventor of the Amplifier, EMP device, and mask. His motivation: to prove that the Small People’s "intellectual superiority" collapses before physical reality. His method: he never uses brute force. Instead, he exploits their maintenance of dignity—forcing them to "permit" their own degradation to preserve the illusion of authority, trapping them in the gap between their social title and their physical helplessness.
Chapter 1: The Weight of Equality
The lights of the museum lecture hall washed over the wall. Kang Seo-ah stood atop the podium—eighteen centimeters of presence. Unlike the other Small People teachers who used the palms of human students as living pedestals to project dominance, she stood upon the wooden platform itself. To reach the supplies on the high shelf, she had to stand on tiptoe, her A-cup chest rising and falling in faint, shallow movements beneath her loose blouse with each breath she took.
"In the history of art, the difference between humans and Small People is not merely one of size."
Seo-ah traced an arc in the air with her hand. Her long sleeves completed the gesture. The human students raised their heads to look up at her. At eighteen centimeters, she was roughly the size of a doll placed upon a desk, yet she deliberately bent her body to meet their eye level, refusing to look down upon them from above.
"During the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci calculated the proportions of Small People and humans using the same Golden Ratio. Different in size, but equal in soul, he said."
Her eyes curved into crescent moons. The deep wrinkles at the corners of her youthful face—forty years old trapped in a teenager’s visage—brushed against her smile when she moved.
"So, everyone, don't look up at me from below just because I'm small. Meet me eye to eye. We respect each other that way."
From the back of the lecture hall, Tae-min raised his head. Beyond his glasses, his eyes quietly measured her eighteen-centimeter frame, calculating the physics of her existence. Seo-ah seemed to feel his gaze; she turned and smiled at him. Tae-min bowed his head in greeting.
"Teacher Seo-ah is really... different from the other Small People."
The human students whispered after class. While other Small People teachers commanded them with orders, Seo-ah’s habit of lowering herself to their level had become rumor among them.
When the evening sunset stained the apartment window red, the front door opened, casting a shadow across the floor. Twenty-three centimeters of presence entered. Kang Ri-an closed the door. Her ebony, bob-cut hair brushed against her nape, her school uniform blouse stretched taut over her E-cup curves. As she looked down, she saw a small figure moving in front of the kitchen sink.
"You're doing that alone again?"
Ri-an’s voice rang out. As she approached, her twenty-three-centimeter stature allowed her to look down completely upon her eighteen-centimeter mother. Five centimeters was a vast gulf among the Small People. Ri-an’s voluptuous chest pressed against her blouse buttons as she looked down from her height, while Seo-ah’s flat, A-cup chest looked almost childlike in comparison.
"Ri-ah, you're home? Mom can do it all by herself."
Seo-ah had to crane her neck up to see her daughter. The angle forced her head back to glimpse Ri-an’s jawline—a forty-year-old mother looking up at her nineteen-year-old daughter.
"Don't be ridiculous. Look at that shelf height. You can't even reach it, Mom."
Ri-an walked past. With her longer arms, she reached over Seo-ah’s head to open a cabinet her mother could never touch, retrieving ingredients. The weight of her E-cup chest tilted her body forward as she looked down at the smaller woman below.
"Call a human. You don't have punishment rights, but I do. Why should you do this yourself when I'm here?"
"We have to live equally, Ri-ah. Humans aren't tools."
"Equality?"
Ri-an snorted. She stood before her mother, her shadow completely engulfing the eighteen-centimeter woman. The silhouette of her ample chest draped over her mother’s flat one.
"You always say that. We command humans and they live off the money. That's reality."
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
"Ma'am... I mean, Auntie. It’s Tae-min."
The moment the door opened, a one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter shadow covered eighteen-centimeter Seo-ah. She had to look up. Tae-min’s gaze descended and met hers. At eighteen centimeters, she barely reached his knee.
"Tae-min? I told you to call me Auntie here. What brings you at this hour?"
"I came to get a USB from my cousin. And... like you taught me in lecture today, I came to meet you eye to eye."
Tae-min knelt. His one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter body lowered to her eye level. Seo-ah laughed, flustered by the gesture.
"Really... Tae-min, you're special. Ri-ah! Tae-min is here!"
Ri-an peeked out from the living room. Standing at twenty-three centimeters, she looked alternately at her eighteen-centimeter mother and the one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter Tae-min. Her E-cup chest pressed firmly against her uniform as she naturally looked down at her mother.
"That human again..."
"Ri-ah! Tae-min is our cousin and your junior. Be nice to him."
Seo-ah climbed onto Tae-min’s knee and took his hand. Her eighteen-centimeter fingers intertwined with his one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter ones. Tae-min quietly memorized the sensation—the texture of a child’s hand, but with the warmth of a forty-year-old woman.
"I'll get the USB for you, Auntie. Just stay there."
When Tae-min stood up, Seo-ah had to grab his pant leg to keep her balance. From that height, the world was a kingdom of giants.
That night, in Tae-min’s room.
The monitor screen emitted a blue glow. The sound of typing grew faster in the silence. The school’s internal network, the education board database, the power structures of the Small People clans. Where his fingers stopped was the "Punishment Rights Registration List."
Kang Seo-ah.
Registration Number: NULL.
Punishment Right Level: None (Voluntary Forfeiture).
Reason: Forfeiture and concealment of qualification to guarantee daughter’s social status.
A smile spread across Tae-min’s lips. The screen light reflected off his glasses.
"Auntie... you were unarmed all along."
He pressed the printer button. Seo-ah’s personal information, her address, and the fact that she had no punishment rights printed onto the paper.
"Slowly," he murmured.
From the moment he knew she was weaponless, his approach was no longer coercion, but a siege disguised as support.
"Tomorrow, a little closer."
He looked out the window. Beyond it, he saw the eighteen-centimeter shadow moving in the kitchen window across the way. Then the twenty-three-centimeter shadow of her daughter. And his own one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter reflection, grinning in the glass.
"Tomorrow."
Chapter 2: The Eye Level of the Kitchen
The front door of the faculty housing behind the museum opened a crack. Sunset bled through the hallway, staining the carpet orange. Eighteen-centimeter Kang Seo-ah poked her head through the gap. Her childlike face caught the amber light, making her look like a teenage girl peeking at a neighbor’s house, though her voice carried the comfortable warmth of a forty-year-old woman.
"Tae-min, want to stay for dinner?"
At the end of the hall, Tae-min looked up from tying his shoes. His one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter gaze naturally angled downward. Framed in the doorway, Seo-ah barely reached his knee height. Her A-cup chest rose and fell in nearly imperceptible movements beneath her loose blouse, and her eighteen-centimeter frame seemed fixed in place just beyond the threshold.
"Ri-an has evening study hall at the library... and Mom can’t finish all this food alone."
Seo-ah extended her hand. Her small fingers trembled slightly in the air. Tae-min blinked. This was the woman who had stood on the lecture podium preaching about "equal eye levels," yet now she was looking up at him from below. Yesterday, the human students had knelt to raise her up; today, she stood at his feet, her neck craned at a painful angle to meet his eyes.
"I’d love to, Auntie. Let me help you."
Tae-min knelt, lowering his one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter stature to her eye level. Seo-ah’s face bloomed with a bright smile. She opened the door wide, revealing the kitchen beyond. A dual architecture: the thirty-centimeter-high counters of Small People appliances stood separate from the human-sized furniture, miniature pots and pans glittering under the lights. But beside the sink lay a large cutting board, and next to it, boxes of human-sized ingredients.
"Actually... it’s Ri-an’s birthday today. I wanted to make pasta for her myself, but..."
Seo-ah walked into the kitchen. Her eighteen-centimeter legs crossed the floor in short strides, her shadow moving palm-sized across the large tiles. Tae-min followed, closing the front door, and his shadow swallowed hers completely.
"Auntie, I’ll handle the ingredients, right?"
"Yes, thank you. We have Small People pasta, but the sauce ingredients..."
Seo-ah approached the human-sized sink. At ninety centimeters high, the counter was a wall to her. Even standing on tiptoe with arms outstretched, she couldn’t reach the surface. Her A-cup chest pressed minutely against her blouse as she stretched, the movement barely visible.
"I’ll have to climb up here."
Seo-ah grabbed the small ladder attached to the side—a standard assistive step for Small People kitchens installed by the housing cooperative. She climbed one step, then two, until her eighteen-centimeter body stood atop the counter. Now she could look down at Tae-min from ninety centimeters high. But this was no "pedestal" of human hands; it was merely the height of furniture, an everyday equality she insisted upon.
"Now, can you prep the tomatoes and onions? They’re too big for us..."
Tae-min stood before the cutting board. His gaze naturally traveled upward. Seo-ah’s feet were level with his eyes. As she tried to cross her arms, her loose blouse flattened against her A-cup chest, making her forty-year-old body look like a schoolgirl’s. But her hands were a woman’s hands, wrinkled at the knuckles, and they pointed him toward the tools with requests rather than commands.
"Auntie will boil the sauce. Tae-min, chop those large onions."
Tae-min nodded, picking up the knife. As his hand moved, Seo-ah tilted her head, watching.
"Wait, don’t hold the knife like that... curl your fingers like this..."
Seo-ah leaned forward from the counter to demonstrate. As she tilted, her eighteen-centimeter center of gravity shifted forward. She wasn’t a ballerina; her small body lost balance instantly.
"Ah!"
A small shriek escaped. As Seo-ah pitched forward, Tae-min’s hand shot up. His palm caught her from below. Eighteen centimeters of Seo-ah were lifted completely into his one hand. Her A-cup chest landed against his thumb, flat but soft, the texture of her skin transmitting to his.
"Sorry! Auntie!"
Tae-min’s voice sounded panicked. But his hand didn’t immediately withdraw. Seo-ah sat in his palm, like a chick lifted by its mother. Her chest pressed against his finger bones, the flat curve spreading slightly under pressure.
"I-it’s fine... put me down, Tae-min."
Seo-ah gestured with her hand. Her ears turned red. A forty-year-old woman held in a seventeen-year-old boy’s hand—the very opposite of the "equality" she preached. Tae-min slowly lowered his hand, setting her back on the counter. His fingers seemed to trail down her back as he withdrew.
"Really sorry. You looked like you were falling..."
"No, thank you. Mom would have been hurt without you."
Seo-ah smoothed her blouse wrinkles. Her flat chest meant no bra outline showed through, which somehow made her exposure more embarrassing. Eighteen centimeters of body regained balance carefully on the counter.
"We have to be careful. Mom is... small, unlike your daughter."
Seo-ah murmured unconsciously. She thought of Ri-an. At twenty-three centimeters, her daughter could stand easily at this counter. With her E-cup fullness for balance, she would command humans imperiously. But Seo-ah was eighteen centimeters, and her A-cup flatness couldn’t even steady her.
"Auntie, I’ll support you from the side. Like this..."
Tae-min stepped beside the counter. His body pressed against the edge, his arm rising to rest beside her on the surface. One-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter forearm—thick as her waist—lay next to her. When he moved slightly, his skin brushed her blouse sleeve.
"Really? Thank you... then this tomato..."
Seo-ah began cutting Small People tomatoes with a tiny knife. Tae-min chopped human-sized tomatoes beside her. The sound of his knife striking the board rang loudly; Seo-ah flinched at each impact. When she turned her head in surprise, her cheek brushed his shoulder. Warm body heat touched eighteen-centimeter skin, and Seo-ah jerked back, nearly losing balance at the counter’s edge again.
"Auntie!"
Tae-min’s hand shot out again. This time, two fingers wrapped around her waist. Eighteen centimeters of waist fit between his index and middle fingers. As he pulled gently, Seo-ah’s body slid toward him. Her flat chest bumped against his collar, then separated.
"Sorry! The knife slipped..."
"It’s... it’s fine... Tae-min."
Seo-ah’s breathing quickened. She looked up at him. From eighteen centimeters, she could only see his jawline, and above that, his downward gaze felt like looking up at the sky. She suddenly thought, Is this child only making mistakes? But she couldn’t scold him like Ri-an would. She had no punishment rights. And she was the teacher who preached equality.
"Your hand... why is it there...!"
"I was afraid you’d fall... you’re so small..."
Tae-min spoke innocently. He still wasn’t looking down. Seo-ah suspected, yet his words made sense. She really was small... to prevent her from falling...
"Yes... I understand... but... don’t touch there..."
"Yes, Auntie."
Tae-min answered obediently. But his finger didn’t move from her waist. Instead, it pressed slightly inward, supporting her small body more "securely." As Seo-ah focused on cutting, Tae-min’s mouth moved, placing a kiss on her chest. With eyes closed, "by accident."
"Ah... there... why...!"
"Sorry... you were too close... my lips brushed..."
"Stay... still... please..."
Seo-ah moaned. Her face flushed red. The sauce boiled. The smell of tomatoes filled the air. And mixed within it was the calculation of one-hundred-seventy-five centimeters. Tae-min smiled, watching her back as she stirred. The preparation was complete. The eighteen centimeters in his palm now had nowhere left to fall.
Chapter 3: The Temperature of White Stains
The tomato sauce bubbled in the pot, filling the kitchen with steam. Seo-ah stood on the counter, wooden spatula in hand, stirring with her back to the room. Behind her, Tae-min opened the refrigerator. His one-hundred-seventy-five-centimeter arm reached up to the top shelf, retrieving a container of heavy cream.
"Auntie, you’re making cream pasta, right?"
"Yes, just put it there..."
Before Seo-ah could finish, Tae-min turned. His foot caught on the edge of the kitchen mat. The container slipped from his hand, tumbling through the air in a slow arc, and then—
Splat.
White cream erupted. A cold, thick cascade poured down from above, drenching eighteen-centimeter Seo-ah completely. The heavy liquid coated her wavy black hair, ran down her forehead past her eyebrows, and kept flowing—down her neck, into the collar of her primly buttoned blouse, and pooling in the valley of her A-cup chest.
"Ah! C-cold!"
Seo-ah shrieked. Her small body convulsed. The cream soaked through her blouse instantly, the white fabric turning translucent against her skin. What had been a loose garment now clung to her flat chest like a second skin, the outline of her plain bra visible beneath, and the darkening shape of her nipples pressing against the wet cloth. Cream dripped from her chin, gathered in the hollow of her throat, and slid down into her cleavage.
"Sorry! Auntie, I’m so sorry!"
Tae-min’s hands reached out, then stopped in mid-air, as if unsure where to touch. Seo-ah touched her face, smearing cream across her cheek. Her ears burned with humiliation. At forty years old—no, looking like a teenager but feeling every year of her age—she stood covered in white fluid in front of a human boy, her blouse plastered to her flat breasts, the lace of her bra visible through the transparent fabric.
"I-I’ll get a towel..."
"Wait, the sink... I need to wash..."
Seo-ah stumbled toward the edge of the counter. But she stopped. The human-sized sink was ninety centimeters high. Even standing on her tiptoes, eighteen centimeters of height couldn’t reach the faucet. Normally, she would call a human housekeeper to serve as a living pedestal while she washed, but now—
"What do I do... like this..."
She looked down at herself. Her blouse was completely soaked, the cream turning the white cloth see-through. Her flat chest was clearly outlined, the bra straps dark lines against her pale skin. Cream had even dripped down to her skirt, staining the hem.
"I’ll... I’ll wash you, Auntie. Here at the sink..."
Tae-min suggested carefully, his face flushed with apparent embarrassment. Seo-ah hesitated. To let a human wash her body was to surrender the dignity of a Small Person. But she was cold, sticky, and humiliated. And Tae-min looked genuinely sorry—a good boy. A boy who understood equality.
"Fine... please. But... be gentle."
"Of course."
Tae-min moved to the sink. He turned the water to a warm temperature. Seo-ah stood at the counter’s edge, looking down at him from ninety centimeters up. But she was still eighteen centimeters tall—too small for the faucet above.
"Auntie, sit in my hand. I’ll lift you up."
Tae-min knelt and opened his palm. Seo-ah climbed onto it, her wet blouse immediately soaking his skin. He lifted her slowly toward the sink. Eighteen centimeters of Seo-ah hovered in the air, held by one hand, the deep sink yawning below her like a porcelain canyon.
"The water... it’s coming."
Tae-min turned the faucet. Warm water gushed out. But it was a human-sized stream—far too strong for eighteen centimeters. The water pressure hit Seo-ah like a fire hose.
"Ah! Too strong! I’ll get soaked!"
Tae-min panicked. He tried to block the stream with his hand, but his fingers parted the water, sending it spraying directly onto Seo-ah’s body. She twisted in his palm, her wet blouse sliding further open. The water mixed with cream, making the fabric even more transparent, adhering to her flat chest like paint.
"Sorry! Let me use a sponge..."
He grabbed a sponge with his other hand. But his grip slipped. The sponge shot forward, striking Seo-ah directly in the chest. Soft, wet pressure against her A-cup breasts, sliding across the thin barrier of her blouse.
"Ugh..."
Seo-ah bit her lip. The sponge moved across her chest, rubbing in circular motions that seemed designed to "clean" but only stimulated. Tae-min looked genuinely focused on washing, but his hand moved the sponge lower, toward her blouse buttons.
"There’s so much cream here, Auntie..."
His fingers brushed the first button. It popped open. Then the second. The wet blouse parted, revealing her white bra beneath, soaked and translucent against her flat chest. The dark circles of her areolas showed through the thin fabric, and her small nipples—erect from the cold and the shock—poked sharply against the cups.
"The buttons... sorry, they came undone..."
Tae-min apologized, but he didn’t stop. His sponge slipped between the open blouse, pressing directly against her bra. Warm, wet friction against her sensitive skin. Seo-ah tried to cover herself with her hands, but her eighteen-centimeter arms couldn’t shield her chest from his sponge.
"Stop... please..."
"Just a little more... your back too..."
He turned her around in his hand. Her back faced him, her wet skirt clinging to her small buttocks. His fingers found the clasp of her bra—accidentally, he claimed—but instead of closing it, his fumbling pulled it open.
"Ah! The hook... sorry, it came loose..."
The bra fell forward. Seo-ah gasped, grabbing at her chest, but eighteen-centimeter hands couldn’t cover a forty-year-old woman’s shame. Her flat breasts were exposed—small, pale, with tiny pink nipples erect and vulnerable in the kitchen air.
"Don’t look..."
"I’m not... I’m just washing..."
Tae-min’s sponge touched her bare back, then circled around to her front. He was "cleaning" her. The sponge rubbed against her exposed breasts, the rough texture grazing her nipples. Seo-ah’s body jerked in his hand, her legs kicking uselessly in the air.
"Please... enough..."
"Almost done... just the front..."
His fingers replaced the sponge. Direct contact. Warm, wet digits sliding across her flat chest, cupping the small mounds that barely filled his fingertips. He rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, claiming he was "removing the cream."
"That’s... not... ah..."
"Does it hurt? I’ll be gentler..."
Seo-ah was crying now, tears mixing with the water and cream on her face. She sat naked from the waist up in his palm, eighteen centimeters of humiliated femininity, while his fingers continued their "cleaning" of her breasts. The kitchen light above cast harsh shadows, making her wet skin glisten.
"Let me down... please..."
"Yes... but you’re still wet... and your skirt..."
Tae-min’s hand moved lower. His fingers grazed her waist, then her hips. The wet skirt was the only thing left. His fingers played at the hem, lifting it slightly.
"Don’t...!"
"Sorry! I was just checking..."
He lowered her onto the counter. But his fingers "accidentally" hooked into her waistband as he set her down. The skirt slipped down her legs, leaving her completely naked on the kitchen counter—eighteen centimeters of bare, wet, shivering womanhood.
"Ah! My clothes...!"
"I’ll get them... don’t move..."
But Tae-min didn’t reach for the clothes. He reached for his phone.
Click.
The shutter sound was unmistakable. Seo-ah looked up, horrified, covering her chest with one hand and her groin with the other. But she was too small to hide everything. The photo captured her—eighteen centimeters, naked, wet, tears streaming down her childlike face, sitting on a kitchen counter like a discarded doll.
"Auntie... you’re beautiful."
"Delete it... please... delete it..."
"I will. I promise. But... let me take one more, just to remember how pretty you are..."
Tae-min moved closer. His shadow engulfed her completely. Seo-ah curled into a ball, her flat chest pressed against her knees, her wet hair hiding her face. But she was exposed. Completely. And she had no punishment rights to stop him.
The kitchen smelled of tomatoes and cream and humiliation. And somewhere in the apartment, the sound of a daughter’s key turning in a lock echoed—but that was a different story, and Seo-ah was already lost.