If this failed — if he was left with nothing to show for it, discarded and abandoned — just the thought of it was horrifying. His organs really could get stripped out and he could be sold off to America or China. And if that happened, it really would mean dying, just as they’d always said. He didn’t want that.
Some might ask whether dying wasn’t the better option at this point — but Yeonwoo wanted to live.
Even just once. Even if it lasted only a single day. He wanted to experience what it felt like to live an ordinary life. A life where he didn’t have to watch anyone’s moods, where he wasn’t oppressed. He wanted to sleep in until late in the morning and eat snacks in bed. He wanted to lie around all day doing absolutely nothing. He wanted to eat whatever he felt like eating without having to read the room or be scolded for it. He wanted to forget what it felt like to be so hungry his stomach cramped in his fist. He wanted to live a life where he wasn’t cursed at, where he wasn’t hit at the slightest provocation. That was all Yeonwoo wanted — that simple, ordinary life. Thinking about dying without ever getting to experience any of that felt unbearably sad and unjust.
“Right. I can do this.”
He could. If he just played his part well, he might be able to have a taste of that life, even briefly. To do that, he had to win over the twisted, sick pervert. He had confidence — he’d imagined and rehearsed this countless times — but with the moment drawing near, he decided to go through it one more time.
Standing under the hot water, scrubbing himself clean, Yeonwoo let his mind wander. What would the man say when he first met him? The familiar black shape from his imagination opened its mouth.
[Why should I buy you? Give me a reason.]
Oh, if he said that… Yeonwoo rolled his eyes in thought. First, he ran through what his selling points were. He would have liked there to be many — but unfortunately, they were few enough to count on one hand.
I take hits well.
Saying it that way sounded a bit odd, but it was true. Having been hit consistently over the years, his tolerance for pain had built up considerably. He was confident he wouldn’t cry out at anything short of serious pain. That meant the twisted, sick pervert could take out his frustrations freely whenever he was angry. He also planned to add that he rarely cried.
And…
What else? Yeonwoo turned to look in the mirror. A thin, somewhat melancholy face stared back. To his own eyes, he just looked sad and fragile — but objectively, he understood he was considered pretty. Still, he thought he looked far too delicate.
A man ought to have stronger, more defined features… but no matter how he looked at himself, he was soft. Like a watercolor painting. He probably couldn’t lead with his looks. What else was there?
No experience?
Oh — oh… Yeonwoo found it distasteful but decided to accept it. Assemblyman Cha had said it until he was blue in the face. That was the very reason he’d never let Yeonwoo out into the world. That was what drove up the price, wasn’t it. He didn’t quite understand it, but — well. He’d put that down as a selling point too.
Sadly, that was the only asset he could confidently name. Yeonwoo continued his imagining.
[I don’t share a table with dogs.]
A little sad — but even at Assemblyman Cha’s house, the number of times he’d actually eaten at the same table as the family could be counted on one hand. And even then, it was only when they needed to be seen together somewhere outside. Otherwise, they never sat across from each other for a meal.
So this was manageable. He didn’t want to eat with people who made him uncomfortable either.
He could let that one wash over him without much trouble.
All those imaginings carried him forward until his skin had gone pink from the heat. He hadn’t meant to stay in this long. The hotel must have been as expensive as it looked — even after all that time, the hot water kept pouring out strong. The room he’d lived in back there had barely managed hot water, despite the house being as grand as it was.
At first, he’d thought something was wrong. Something must have been broken, he’d told himself. Even the orphanage he’d grown up in had hot water. But when he eventually realized it was all the doing of Assemblyman Cha’s children and hired staff working together, he’d felt a kind of hollow numbness. What had they possibly gotten out of tormenting him in such petty ways?
Well — they just wanted to, I suppose.
There was no reason for cruelty. Yeonwoo hoped the hot water would wash away the painful and exhausting memories along with everything else. He stepped out and a sigh came without thinking. The closer the appointed time drew, the drier his mouth became and the more his legs trembled. He knew he had to calm himself. He had to still the anxiety and put on the appearance of composure. But his heart refused to settle, hammering wildly without any sign of slowing.
His face, flushed red with nerves, only went back to normal after he splashed cold water on it several times.
And then — it happened.
Rrrrrr—
The telephone in the hotel room began to ring. Yeonwoo, guilty of nothing, startled so badly he froze and stared at the phone. Given the circumstances, there was no question the call was for him.
Should he answer? Should he not? Of course he had to answer. And yet something about it felt deeply wrong. Every nerve in his body seemed to be screaming at him not to pick up. While he was still thinking it through, the ringing stopped as though it had never started.
What do I do?
He hadn’t wanted to answer — but now that the ringing had actually stopped, he felt uneasy. But the unease was short-lived.
The moment the ring cut off, it started again. It shouldn’t have been possible — but it felt harsher than before, more aggressive. Yeonwoo carefully picked up the receiver.
“H-hello?”
Why did it take you so long to answer!
A furious voice blared through the receiver. Even though Assemblyman Cha wasn’t in front of him, his shoulders jerked instinctively. Yeonwoo gripped the phone like it was a lifeline. His heart pounded, his vision blurred. His mouth went dry.
“S-sorry—”
Forget it. There’s something I need you to do.
…What? Something he needed to do again?
A USB drive. The one he carries on him. That specific one — it has to be that one. Nothing else will do. You’ll be rolling around in a hotel room with him anyway, so lifting something like that should be nothing. Check his pockets, check his inner pockets — thoroughly. Then bring it to me.
First the man had been “that person” — now he’d become “that bastard.”
“…But.”
If by some chance you get caught and you so much as breathe my name — well. Would he believe the word of a lowlife bastard, or the word of a distinguished man like me? Obviously mine.
Cha Baeju’s voice, faintly smug as ever, was saturated with malice. Yeonwoo wanted to argue — but he couldn’t. Just as Cha Baeju had said, the odds of Kang Jihyeok believing him over Cha Baeju were slim. Yeonwoo’s eyes dropped. He’d heard words like these all his life — so why did they cut deeper today than usual?
You understand me? Why aren’t you answering!
“……”
You need to repay the grace of being raised. Who do you think made it possible for you to grow up the way you did? Hmm? It was all thanks to me. An orphan whose own mother threw him away — I raised you like a human being. The least you could do is prostrate yourself in gratitude.
The curses and abuse came in an unrelenting stream. It felt as though Assemblyman Cha might throw open the hotel room door at any moment and kick him, strike him. He knew that was impossible — and still the fear came flooding in, wave after wave.
Get yourself together.
Yeonwoo closed his eyes and breathed slowly. Assemblyman Cha was not here. And even if he were, he wouldn’t touch him — not when he was about to be sold as merchandise. That much had been made clear by the way even Cha Jeongsik had backed down without doing anything.
But years of conditioned abuse were enough to make his body tremble regardless. The pain was carved into his bones — an instinct, deeper than reason.
Not answering?
At the furious voice through the receiver, Yeonwoo squeezed his eyes shut.
“Yes — yes. I understand.”
What came after that, he couldn’t quite recall. When he came back to himself, he was standing alone in front of the meeting place. All he had to do now was walk inside.
“You have to do well, Cha Yeonwoo.”
He had to. That was the only way he stood any chance of tasting even a fragment of the ordinary life he had longed for so desperately. He squeezed his eyes shut, drew one final steadying breath, and stepped inside.
As if waiting for exactly that moment, a smiling staff member approached.
“Welcome. What brings you in this evening?”
“Oh, I just came for a drink…”
