But the moment that rumor spread, the one who came rushing over was none other than Cha Baeju.
The second he heard that filthy rumor, he must have thought of his youngest son. Kang Jihyeok could see straight through Cha Baeju’s disgusting mind. He’d probably considered selling the boy off in every direction before concluding that selling him to Jihyeok would be the most profitable move. Fucking hell. Even for a bastard who sold off his own conscience long ago, there are lines you don’t cross.
He must have heard the sound of teeth grinding, because Cha Baeju’s voice came through trembling in the most grating way. Pathetic piece of shit. Even his voice is pathetic. Kang Jihyeok made a silent vow that if Cha Baeju couldn’t repay the money, he’d rip out the man’s vocal cords first.
“Will it be worth 5 billion?”
T-Trust me, you’ll see once you meet him. He’s very pretty.
He was utterly dumbfounded.
“Worth 5 billion?”
Y-Yes. He’s very pretty. Ha ha — and, well. CEO Kang, men are better for playing with. Of course, of course. No risk of anyone coming back later with a swollen belly, so it’s just right. Sturdy too, so you can treat him however you like.
Cha Baeju’s voice now carried a rather desperate edge. Bastard child or not — was it something a father could do, selling away someone who shared half his blood, to a loan shark notorious for his cruelty? And in place of money, no less?
It was painfully clear that he didn’t care what happened to the boy once he was handed over. Cherishes him, my ass. Did the man even realize how full of contradictions everything coming out of his own mouth was?
If Kang Jihyeok had even a shred of compassion in him, he might have felt a pang of pity for Cha Baeju’s youngest son — a face he’d never even seen. But regrettably, he was the kind of person who considered such emotions a luxury.
He had long believed — and lived accordingly — that feelings with no practical use, feelings that didn’t help him make money, were better left unfelt. And it was precisely that cold-blooded nature that had been the driving force behind everything he’d built. When he didn’t respond, Cha Baeju seemed to take it as silent agreement and kept on rambling.
You can have a taste, and then pass him along to someone else. What I mean is, you don’t have to send him back to me. I don’t think that’s a bad deal…
A hollow laugh escaped him now. No matter how he looked at it, this was a losing deal for him. How much money had been borrowed? And he was supposed to call it even for one bastard kid? Does he think I’m an idiot?
“CEO.”
Just then, Manager Yang held out a photograph. Kang Jihyeok reached for it naturally. The photo drifted slowly down into his hand. Was this kid’s face really so remarkable that Cha Baeju dared offer him in place of 5 billion?
Even so….
“…….”
Kang Jihyeok looked at the man in the photo. It was blurry — likely taken without the subject’s knowledge — and the surroundings were dark, making it hard to make out his features clearly.
Even so, the man in the photo was beautiful. Strikingly so. Not in a good way, of course. The kind of face that stirred the same dark appetite in men like Jihyeok.
Perhaps he’d never been properly exposed to sunlight — even in the dim interior, his skin glowed pale and luminous, so translucent you could see the veins beneath. His pitifully thin frame and his smile, so clearly forced, stirred no compassion in Jihyeok whatsoever. It only made him look obscenely enticing.
Kang Jihyeok licked his lips without thinking. He wanted to leave marks on that white skin. He wanted to bite and suck until red bruises were stamped all over it. Just imagining those eyes flushed red at the corners, the boy whimpering that it hurt — his groin ached with it.
Kang Jihyeok stared at the photo, unblinking. The silence stretched so long that even Manager Yang, who had handed it over, looked unsettled. Jihyeok traced a finger slowly over the figure in the photo before finally opening his mouth.
“Can I have a taste first before I decide?”
O-Of course, of course you can.
“Send him.”
He heard Manager Yang draw a sharp, involuntary breath. He knew what he’d just done was impulsive. He knew that — and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photo.
“Tomorrow.”
Th-Then I’ll have him cleaned up and ready by tomorrow….
He didn’t want to hear another word, so he hung up. Kang Jihyeok tapped the photo lightly. His mouth had gone dry with anticipation.
“Doesn’t look anything like his father.”
This feeling rising hot in his chest — it might just disappear once he actually met the soft, fluffy little thing in person.
He might not be as pretty as the photo. Seeing him in the flesh, he might not feel this same rush at all. He might not even want to press their lips together, let alone bite him.
If that was the case, he’d send him back. So this was absolutely not an impulsive decision.
“P-Please. Please spare me.”
The room was thick with the smell of blood, tears, and screaming. The metallic stench pricked at the nose, yet not a single person in the room grimaced or suggested opening a window. It was all too familiar to them. The man writhing on the floor scrambled forward and grabbed onto the hem of Kang Jihyeok’s trousers — as if that might save him.
“C-CEO.”
Jihyeok could have shaken him off easily, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the man cling to him. The man still didn’t seem to realize that the lifeline he’d grabbed onto in his final moments of free fall was a rotted rope leading straight into the abyss.
“P-Please.”
“Mm, go ahead. Tell me. I’m listening.”
It was a voice utterly at odds with the situation — flat, monotone. Hard to believe it came from the one who had orchestrated all of this. And that was exactly what made the man tremble with fear. He knew that even if his head were cut off on the spot, Kang Jihyeok wouldn’t bat an eye. No — this was a man who would do the cutting himself and not think twice.
But even with death staring him in the face, he had to do whatever it took to survive.
“I — I, you see—”
The man rubbed his hands together desperately, his face a battered mess. It was a pitiful sight, but not a single pair of eyes in the room offered him sympathy. Most looked at him the way you’d look at a rabid animal. He couldn’t possibly have missed the disgusted stares fixed on him, and yet the man kept bowing his head, pleading endlessly.
“I can pay — I can pay it back. I swear. J-Just give me time.”
“I feel like I heard that same thing three months ago.”
“I — I really mean it. I wasn’t — I wasn’t trying to run. I was trying to make money. Yes — I went to make money. To pay back what I borrowed from you, CEO. I — I was making an effort. P-Please believe me.”
It was the exact same excuse, word for word — listening to it was getting tedious. Kang Jihyeok pulled his trouser leg free from the man’s grip with irritation. He knows what I’ve seen and heard. And he actually thought feeding me that kind of nonsense would work? The nerve of it left him speechless. Did the man think he’d hear all that and go, Oh really? I see, I see. God, why were there so many idiots like this lately? Kang Jihyeok exhaled slowly and looked down at the man with sharp, piercing eyes.
“Answer me.”
The man swallowed hard under the weight of Jihyeok’s menacing presence. His instincts told him clearly — if he didn’t come up with something concrete right now, he would die here.
His lips kept moving soundlessly, and then, as if a bright idea had suddenly struck him, he gave a vigorous nod. His eyes were bloodshot.
“M-My youngest is healthy. He’s 25, and he’s a man.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Kang Jihyeok’s expression went cold and still.
Regrettably, the man didn’t notice.
“His kidney, or his liver… I heard they go for a lot these days. Would — would that work?”
“What about yours?”
“I — I’m too old.”
