Hi pookies 🎀, this is my first story please support and if you're a Atiny you should definitely check this story out because I promise it'd be the best. Muah 😘
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The Choi mansion's grand hall loomed dark and chilly, illuminated only by the flickering chandelier overhead. Tension thickened the air, broken sporadically by the distant rumble of thunder.
Mr. Jung knelt, his hands trembling as he clutched at Choi San's leg. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat that dripped from his brow. His voice was hoarse, each word laced with desperation.
"Please, Mr. Choi... I beg you. Spare me. I'll do anything. Anything!"
His voice quivered, a raw plea against the oppressive atmosphere.
Choi San looked down at the man with cold, unfeeling eyes. In his hand, he held a gleaming pocket knife, the blade reflecting the dim light as he slowly traced it along Mr. Jung's cheek. The older man flinched, a whimper escaping his lips at the touch of the cold steel.
"Anything, you say?" Choi San chuckled calmly, amusement dancing in his gaze.
Two of San's men stood behind Mr. Jung, their grips firm on his shoulders, ensuring he couldn't shake free. The pressure of their hands served as a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play.
"Yes! Anything! Just... just give me more time. I can repay you. I swear!" Mr. Jung nodded desperately, his back hunched, sweat pooling on his brow. He was a mere shadow of the confident businessman he once was, reduced to a broken figure begging for mercy.
His eyes were downcast, but his hands shook as they clasped together, trembling with the weight of fear and anxiety.
"I can't... I can't lose everything, Mr. Choi. My company... my legacy. Everything I've worked for. I'm begging you. Please." His voice shook, urgency seeping through.
Choi San let the silence grow heavier, letting Mr. Jung's desperation hang in the air like a thick fog.
Mr. Jung swallowed hard and glanced up, albeit briefly. He could feel San's cold, unyielding stare boring into him, toying with him like a cat with its prey. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat echoing the panic swelling within him.
"Please... I'll do anything. Just give me more time. I'll liquidate everything... anything you want. I'll give it. But I need more time." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I've given you months, Jung. Months. Your companies and empire have already collapsed. Your debts? There's too much to cover; it's a lost cause."
He smirked wickedly at Mr. Jung's despair.
Mr. Jung flinched at San's cruel words, yet a last flicker of hope ignited within him. His mind raced, searching for a way out. There was no other choice. His pride, his family's legacy... they meant nothing anymore.
"There's... there's one more thing. One final offer. If you're willing to listen." His tone was desperate, laced with a hint of fear.
Choi San raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He leaned forward slightly, his cold gaze fixed on Mr. Jung. His hand hovered over the knife threateningly, adding to the already heavy tension in the room.
Mr. Jung took a shaky breath, his mouth dry. He knew the words he was about to utter would change everything. He couldn't back down now, not when his family's future was at stake.
"I'm listening. What do you have to offer me now, Jung?" Choi San's voice was low, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
"My son. Wooyoung." Mr. Jung's voice trembled, almost ashamed as the words hung in the air with sickening finality. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze.
"Your son? What do you mean by that?"
Choi San remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'm offering him to you. As payment. For the debts. Take him. Do with him what you will. He's nothing to me, he never was. Just help me save my business empire." Mr. Jung's eyes fell downcast, the weight of his words bearing heavily upon him.
San leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing the edge of the pocket knife idly. He didn't move, but a shift in the air signaled the seriousness of Mr. Jung's desperate offer. The tension in the room mounted as he absorbed the implications.
"You're offering your son to settle your debts? Is that how low you've fallen, Jung?" His voice dripped with a quiet mockery.
Mr. Jung's face flushed with shame, but he didn't dare look up. Shame was irrelevant now. All that mattered was saving what little remained of his life.
"He's weak. A failure. I don't want him. You can have him. He's yours. Take him... and I'll be free of this hell." He pleaded, his voice cracking.
"You're willing to sacrifice your own flesh and blood to save your skin?" San leaned forward, a dark glint sparking in his eyes.
"Please. I've failed him as a father. He's nothing but a burden to me. If you can use him—use him to pay off my debts—I'll... I'll do anything. I swear. Just save me." Mr. Jung's desperation unfurled like a desperate prayer.
Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating. Choi San's gaze remained fixed on Mr. Jung, unreadable but with a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.
"So this is your solution. Sacrifice your son for a second chance at life. Pathetic." San's laughter was devoid of warmth.
Mr. Jung's heart sank as San's words cut deep, leaving him feeling smaller than ever. Dignity was a luxury he could no longer afford.
"You really are pathetic, Jung. But... I'll accept your offer. Your son might be useful to me. And as for you..." San's voice trailed off; for a brief moment, his gaze softened—before the coldness returned, sharper than the blade in his hand.
"Tomorrow, bring him to me. I don't have time to waste on your family's drama."
Mr. Jung's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, hands pressed against the marble. His life was forfeit. His son's life was now a pawn in this twisted game of survival.
He let out a sigh of relief, whispering, "I'll bring him... I'll bring him, Sir!"
The words felt like a death sentence, yet there was no turning back now. San stood, his posture imposing as he looked down at Mr. Jung, his gaze heavy with finality.
"Good. Now get the hell out of my property. Tell your family to prepare your son. And remember, if you fail me..."
San didn't need to finish the sentence. The implications hung like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. Mr. Jung stumbled to his feet, feeling the weight of his choice crush him with every step. As he exited the mansion, the silence followed him, an oppressive reminder of his desperate bargain, and a twisted relief that he was finally rid of the burden he had long neglected.