Chapter 1: A Life of Despair
Yeri's tiny apartment smelled of stale alcohol and regret. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead as she slumped onto her worn-out mattress, her body aching from another double shift at the convenience store. The numbers on her phone screen blurred as she counted her earnings—just enough to keep her father from throwing her out tonight.
*"You're late."*
The voice made her flinch. Her father stood in the doorway, his bloodshot eyes glaring.
*"S-Sorry, the bus was—"*
*"Excuses."* He snatched the envelope from her hands, lip curling as he thumbed through the bills. *"This is it? After all the hours I let you waste out there?"*
Yeri swallowed hard. *"It's all they gave me this week."*
The slap came fast, snapping her head sideways. She tasted blood.
*"Next time,"* he hissed, *"you'll work harder."*
As his footsteps faded, Yeri pressed her forehead against the cold wall, tears slipping silently. The peeling wallpaper bore decades of cigarette burns—some hers, most his.
Rain lashed against Yeri's cheeks as she trudged home the next evening, her hoodie soaked through. A fever burned behind her eyes, but stopping meant punishment.
Then she heard the screams.
Her hand froze on the apartment door. Inside, furniture crashed. A man's voice—smooth as poisoned honey—cut through the chaos:
*"Did you really think I'd forget a debt like ours?"*
Yeri's breath hitched. Through the crack in the door, she saw her father on his knees, nose bleeding onto the stained carpet. Six men in black suits stood like statues.
And *him*—leaning against their moth-eaten couch like he owned it. Tailored suit. Gold watch. A smile that didn't reach his eyes.
*Yunjun.* The name slithered through her mind. Seoul's most feared underworld prince.
*"Please,"* her father whimpered, *"just one more week—"*
Yunjun sighed, examining his cufflinks. *"You've had twelve."* A nod to his men.
The first kick made her father vomit. Yeri's body moved before her mind could catch up—
*"STOP!"*
Silence. Every gun swiveled toward her.
Yunjun's eyebrows lifted. *"Well."* He stepped over her writhing father, leather shoes avoiding the blood. *"Who's this?"*
Up close, he was younger than she expected. Late twenties. Handsome in the way a guillotine was elegant.
Her father gasped through broken teeth: *"Take her! She's pretty, right? Worth more than—"*
*"Dad?"* Yeri's voice cracked. The man who'd burned her with cigarettes was now selling her like livestock.
Yunjun studied her shaking hands, the bruise peeking under her sleeve. Something flickered in his gaze—not pity, but recognition.
*"Look at me,"* he murmured. When she didn't obey, gloved fingers tilted her chin up. *"Ah. There's fire in there after all."*
Her tears fell hot on his thumb.
*"Pack a bag,"* he said, turning away. *"You're coming with me."*
The penthouse smelled like lemons and gun oil. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed Seoul glittering below—a city Yeri had only ever seen from bus stops.
*"Sit."* Yunjun tossed his coat onto a chair worth more than her life.
She remained standing. *"What am I here for?"*
A slow blink. *"You'll be my wife."*
*"That's not funny."*
*"Do I look like I joke?"* He opened a dossier on the table—her school records, medical history, even a photo of her feeding stray cats. *"I always research my investments."*
The walls closed in. *"I'm not a—"*
*"Investment? No."* He poured two whiskeys, pushed one toward her. *"You're collateral. But unlike your father, you have potential."*
Ice clinked as she threw the glass against the wall. *"Go to hell."*
For the first time, Yunjun laughed—real laughter that crinkled his eyes. *"Finally, some spine."* He stood, looming over her. *"Here's the truth, little bird. Out there, you'll die in a year. Either by his hands or yours."* His thumb brushed the faint scar on her wrist. *"But with me? You'll learn to fly."*
Yeri's knees buckled. She expected cruelty, not this terrifying offer of... what? Salvation?
*"Why?"* she whispered.
Yunjun's smile faded. *"Because monsters like your father? They deserve to lose what they love most."*
Outside, thunder rolled. Somewhere beneath them, the city pulsed with life. And Yeri—for the first time in years—felt something dangerous stir in her chest.
Hope.
**To be continued...**
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