Know your place

The room felt smaller.

Or maybe it was just him.

Towering over her, a storm in human form, exuding power, control, and the kind of raw, unfiltered danger that made her pulse thunder in her ears. Yeijin could barely breathe. Could barely think past the overwhelming weight of him, the scent of his cologne, the heat radiating from his body.

He was too close. Too much.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered, voice shaky, desperate.

Minjae rolled his eyes.

"Bla, bla, bla." His lips curled in mock boredom. "You're boring." Her breath hitched. He leaned in slightly, tilting his head, his eyes sharpening. "Always the same questions, over and over." Yeijin gritted her teeth, hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. "Please"she whispered, begging now, grasping at anything, any sliver of mercy he might still have. "You owe me an—"

"Owe you?"

Minjae's voice dropped, suddenly low, dark, mocking in a way that sent ice through her veins. His head tilted slightly, lips parting in mock realization. "Hmm" he hummed, his gaze dangerously unreadable. "I… owe… you?"

Yeijin's breath shattered. Before she could process it, he moved. Fast. Too fast. In an instant, she found herself pinned against the cold wall, trapped between the unforgiving concrete and the crushing presence of Kang Minjae. She let out a sharp gasp, her spine pressing into the wall, her body frozen as his shadow swallowed her whole. "Let me teach you something, sweetheart." he murmured, voice softer now, but somehow even more terrifying. He leaned in, so close she could feel his breath against her skin. "You think I owe you?" Yeijin's pulse thundered. "You think I owe you anything?" She opened her mouth—but no sound came out.

Minjae's eyes darkened. "You don't even know who the fuck you are, do you?" Her lips quivered. "You don't even know what kind of life you've been living."

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before gripping the wall beside her head, trapping her completely.

"Let me break it down for you, little dove."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, panic curling in her stomach like fire.

Minjae smirked.

"Without me?" he mused, voice smooth, sharp as a blade. "Your father wouldn't have even been a fucking Minister." Yeijin's breath caught.

What?

Minjae chuckled, shaking his head. "Surprised?" His voice was dripping with amusement. "Sweetheart, your entire fucking family has been sucking the life out of people like me for years." His smirk disappeared. His voice dropped lower. Darker.

"You were born in luxury, yeah?" He ran a slow, lazy gaze over her, as if she was just another expensive thing her father had bought. "Nice apartment. Fancy university. Boyfriend from a respectable family. Clothes, jewelry, vacations."

Her stomach twisted.

"And do you know who paid for all of that, Yeijin?" She didn't answer. She couldn't.

Minjae's smirk curled back into place.

"Me."

Her blood ran cold. Minjae exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Your father is a fucking leech" he muttered, almost to himself. "A goddamn parasite. And I, being the generous man I am, tried—so many times—to be reasonable." He leaned in closer, his presence crushing. "And do you know what he did?"

Yeijin's hands shook.

Minjae smiled.

"He fucked me over. Over. And over. Again."

Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. "He used my money like it was his" Minjae continued, his voice laced with something colder now, something that made her feel like the room had lost all its air.

"He built his career on my power."

"He made deals with my money."

"He promised things he could never fucking deliver."

And then—

Minjae stilled.

His next words were soft, but merciless.

"And the moment it was time to pay up?"

A sharp, bitter laugh.

"He ran."

Yeijin flinched.

Her father.

Her father had…

Her father had run.

And left her behind.

For this?

Minjae tilted his head, watching her realization hit like a bullet to the chest.

"Still think I owe you?"

Yeijin shook her head.

Not in denial.

But in silent, shattered understanding.

She had never been a person to them.

Not to Minjae.

Not to her father.

She was just a piece on a board.

Just a transaction.

A sacrifice.

She had never mattered.

Minjae sighed, dragging his thumb along his jaw before leaning in just a little closer, until she had nowhere to look but at him. "You exist because I allowed it." he murmured, voice so deadly soft that she barely recognized it as human."Your life? It was mine before you even knew it."

Yeijin's entire body locked.

"And you?" He smirked. "You belong to me now." She let out a shaky exhale, tears burning at the edges of her vision.

Her legs felt weak.

Her throat felt tight.

Everything felt too much.

Her father was a fraud.

Her life had been a lie.

And Kang Minjae was her fucking owner.

Minjae sighed, tilting his head as he studied her. "You understand now, don't you?" he murmured. Yeijin nodded.

Slow. Small.

Minjae chuckled, satisfied.

"Good girl."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She hated him.

Hated him so much.

And yet—

For the first time, she wasn't sure she hated him more than her father.

"You're cruel."

Her voice wasn't loud. It wasn't defiant. It was soft. Almost defeated. And yet, something in it made him pause for just a second—just long enough for Yeijin to tilt her head, locking eyes with him, her lips trembling but set. It was a fragile kind of defiance. One that would shatter if he so much as breathed too hard. But it was there. A pathetic little flicker of resistance. Minjae smirked, tilting his own head to mirror her.

"How could I know?" she whispered. A fair question. Not that it changed anything. "You're right" he murmured, eyes flickering over her face, his tone slow, deliberate, almost like he was humoring her. "You have nothing to do with it." For a second—just a second—he saw something shift in her face. Something like relief. And then—his smirk deepened. "But that makes it even more pathetic" he murmured. Yeijin stiffened. "Because you're, substantially, useless."

There it was.

The exact moment she broke.

Her body jerked, her shoulders locking, her throat working around a sharp inhale.

She flinched—not physically, not in a way that someone else might notice, but he saw it. He always saw it.

And fuck, he liked it.

He liked the way her body reacted to his words, the way her breath came faster, the way her lips parted just slightly like she wanted to argue but had nothing to say. He liked the way her hands curled into pathetic little fists, too weak to do anything, too powerless to even pretend she had a choice in any of this.And her eyes.

God, her fucking eyes.

Big, wet, blue as the goddamn sky. He could see the war inside them. See her fighting herself, see her still clinging onto the idea that this was just temporary. That if she just behaved, if she just complied, she would be set free. She was so fucking naïve. Minjae chuckled, shaking his head."You poor thing." he murmured, voice mocking, taunting. Yeijin gritted her teeth. Her hands shook. She was trying to hold on. Trying so hard. But it was almost too easy to break her. Too easy.

And Minjae?

He never enjoyed treating women badly. Never got pleasure from cruelty for the sake of it. But her?

Her?

It was different. It was almost fun. Because it was easy. And because it was deserved. Her father had played a game he was never meant to win. And she— She was just the collateral. A pretty little sacrifice, left behind like a discarded chess piece. And that wasn't his fault. It was hers. For existing in his world. For being born into the wrong fucking family. So no, he didn't feel bad for her.

Not one fucking bit.

His smirk softened, but his eyes remained cold, detached. "Feeling sorry for yourself?" he asked, tilting his head. Yeijin swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. "I just—" Her voice wavered. "I just want to go home." Minjae's gaze darkened.

"Home?" Something sharp curled around his spine, something irritating, irrational. Her voice sounded so genuine, so raw, so full of hope, as if she actually believed that was still an option. That she had a home left to return to. His expression hardened. "Yeijin." he murmured, voice low, slow, deliberate.

Her lips quivered.

"You don't have a home anymore."

Her entire body went rigid. Minjae stepped closer.

"You're mine now."

She shook her head, shaking, whispering something under her breath, something desperate— "No, no, that's not true, I—" He caught her chin, tilting her face up sharply. Her breath stilled. Minjae smirked. "You don't believe me?"

Silence.

She couldn't even speak. Because she knew. She knew he was right. And it fucking killed her. Minjae sighed, almost disappointed. "That's the thing about debts, sweetheart." He ran a lazy thumb along the line of her jaw, smirking when she shuddered. "They don't just go away." His grip tightened—just slightly, just enough to make her breath hitch. "You were born into this one." His lips ghosted near her ear, his voice dropping into something just above a whisper.

"And now you'll die in it."

Yeijin squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't cry. Not yet. But she wanted to. She wanted to scream, wanted to claw at his face, wanted to rip herself out of this nightmare and run. But she couldn't. Because there was nowhere to run. Because he wasn't lying.

And that? That was the cruelest part of all.

She should be terrified.

And she was. But more than that— She was desperate.

She swallowed, her throat tight, her vision slightly blurred from the unshed tears that burned against her lashes. Minjae saw them. Of course, he did.

His gaze followed them, tracked every single tremble of her lips, every little twitch of her fingers, every subtle shift in her breathing.

Like he enjoyed it.

Like he liked seeing her like this.

Weak.

Helpless.

Beneath him.

She should have stayed quiet.

She should have swallowed her pride, nodded, and let herself be dragged back to her cold, empty room like a good little hostage. But she didn't. Instead, she whispered—

"At least tell my fiancé I'm okay."

Minjae stilled. Just slightly. But it was enough. Enough for Yeijin to know she had surprised him. Enough for her to know he wasn't expecting her to ask for that.

Then— A smirk. Slow, lazy, mocking. Minjae hummed, tapping a finger against his chin, as if actually considering it. "Hmm. Is that what you want, huh?" he mused, his voice too smooth, too calm. Yeijin's pulse pounded against her ribs. "He… he might be worried," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Just—just a message. A lie, I don't care. Tell him I left for a trip or something. Just—" She swallowed hard. "Just let him think I'm okay." Minjae exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple, and for a moment, she thought—

Maybe.

Maybe he would say yes.

But then—

"Let me get this straight" he murmured, tilting his head. "You're sitting here, begging for your life, trembling like a fucking leaf, and your biggest concern is your boyfriend?" She flinched. Minjae laughed. "That's cute."he muttered, shaking his head. Yeijin bit her lip, her nails digging into her palms. She knew it was pathetic. She knew she should be asking for something else, something that actually mattered.

But Taejoon…

He was the only part of her life she could still hold onto. If she could just let him think she was okay— If she could just pretend someone was still out there waiting for her—Maybe she wouldn't completely fall apart. Minjae sighed, stepping back, rolling his shoulders.

He didn't agree.

But he didn't refuse, either.

Instead, he lifted his fingers, snapping them once. "Take her back." he ordered. Yeijin sagged, her knees weak with relief and exhaustion. The guards grabbed her arms, pulling her away, and this time, she didn't fight. There was no point. But just as they reached the door—

"Wait."

Minjae's voice cut through the room, low and calculated. The guards stilled. Yeijin froze. Minjae turned, his sharp gaze trailing down her body—down her thin, oversized clothes, the way the fabric swallowed her small frame.

He frowned.

"Tch." His jaw clenched slightly before he waved a hand. "Buy her some proper clothes. She looks like a fucking beggar." Yeijin's breath caught.

What?

She blinked, stunned, unable to understand why he even cared. But Minjae was already dismissing her, lighting a cigar and turning back to his desk, like she was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Like she wasn't worth thinking about for more than a few seconds. "Get her out of my sight."he muttered. The guards dragged her away. And she didn't resist. Because at least he didn't say no.