Chapter 6: The Price of Debt

Pain was the first thing Jiwon felt When he woke up in the evening. A sharp, merciless ache radiating from every corner of his body, clawing through his skin, burrowing deep into his bones. His wrists throbbed with a raw sting, the rough cords digging into his flesh as he stirred awake. The bitter cold of the room only amplified the agony.

Eyes fluttering open, Jiwon groaned, his vision blurred in . He tried to move, but the harsh scrape of rope against his skin confirmed his imprisonment. His arms were bound behind him, his legs tied to the legs of a sturdy, unforgiving chair. A single, dim light swung above him, its flickering glow offering nothing but an ominous ambience to the chilling emptiness of the room.

Flashes of last night invaded his mind. Sergei. The way his body was torn apart, his dignity crushed under the weight of brutal force. The man's name echoed in his mind, accompanied by an unbearable heaviness of guilt and anguish.

"Ah... h-hah..." Jiwon's breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps, his throat parched and his muscles screaming in protest. His mind spiraled into panic, desperately trying to piece together his shattered sanity.

A door creaked open. Heavy, deliberate footsteps sliced through the silence, each one resonating like a gunshot to Jiwon's frayed nerves.

"Well,you finally woke up?" Sergei's voice was ice and steel, dripping with cruel amusement as he stepped into the dim light.

Jiwon's eyes snapped upward, his gaze locking onto the man before him. Sergei's presence was overpowering—tall, broad-shouldered, his face a mask of unyielding authority. The same man who stole everything from him last night.

Jiwon's lips trembled. "You... You sick bastard..."

Sergei's lips twitched upward, almost mockingly. "Sick? No. Just efficient."

"W-What the hell is this?" Jiwon's voice cracked, anger and fear mingling in his tone. "Why am I tied up? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" Sergei's gaze sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. He dragged a chair from the corner of the room and positioned it directly in front of Jiwon, sitting down with infuriating calmness. "I want to collect a debt. A debt you owe to someone far more powerful than you could ever imagine."

"Debt?" Jiwon's confusion broke through his fury. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You truly don't remember, do you?" Sergei's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let me make this simple. My father, Mikhail Ivanovich Valery Karpov. That name ring a bell?"

Jiwon's face went pale. The name was infamous—synonymous with power and ruthlessness. The kind of man whose influence stretched far beyond Russia's borders.

"Your... father?" Jiwon whispered, his voice barely above a croak.

"Yes. My father." Sergei leaned forward, his eyes alight with a twisted pleasure. "He made a deal with you. Money exchanged. Promises made. But you never paid him back."

"That was... that was years ago I had my reasons. I-I tried to..."

"Tried?" Sergei scoffed, his laugh dark and humorless. "You failed. And my father does not forgive failure. But instead of dealing with you himself, he sent me."

Jiwon's breath hitched. "So... so you're just a dog following your master's orders?"

"No I'm following my own orders." Sergei's voice grew colder. "I am here to deliver my father's punishment. And that, Jiwon, will be just the very first lesson you'll ever learn."

Jiwon's heart raced, his pulse thundering in his ears. The betrayal of last night was nothing compared to the looming terror clawing at his chest now.

"What do you....What are you going to do to me?" he choked out, his eyes glistening with panic.

Sergei rose from his chair, the slight creak of wood echoing like a death knell. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to clasp Jiwon's chin in an iron grip.

Sergei's voice was a whisper, deadly and deliberate. "I'm going to make you suffer."

The first blow came without warning.

"Aaghhhh...."A brutal punch to Jiwon's stomach that forced the air from his lungs with a strangled cry. His body jerked violently against the restraints, pain bursting through him like fire.

Sergei's gaze was pitiless, his fists relentless. Each strike was precise, calculated to inflict the maximum amount of agony without ending his life.

His knuckles slammed into Jiwon's ribs, his face, his shoulders. Pain mingled with terror, drowning Jiwon's mind in a haze of anguish.

"Stop... Please..." Jiwon's pleas fell from his lips, broken and desperate. Tears streamed down his face, his voice shattered with pain. "Why... Why are you doing this...?"

"Because you owe my father, and I intend to collect," Sergei hissed, his voice frigid. "You thought you could escape your debt? Save your energy this is not the only debt there is still a greater debt you owe ME"

"What !...!" Jiwon sobbed, his body trembling uncontrollably. "Just... just stop this..."

"Too late," Sergei's smile was sharp and cruel.

Sergei's hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of Jiwon's hair and wrenching his head back. The sudden, brutal motion elicited a choked scream from Jiwon's throat.

"Look at you...pathetic." Sergei's eyes glowed with satisfaction. "Where was that desperation when you left your DEPTS unpaid?"

"Please..." Jiwon's voice was little more than a whisper, his vision swimming with pain. "I... I'll do anything..."

"Anything?" Sergei released his hair with a derisive laugh.

Jiwon's sobs echoed in the cold, unfeeling room. His pride was gone, stripped away by the merciless onslaught of pain. All that remained was the unending terror of what more this man—this monster—had in store for him.

Sergei stood up, his gaze indifferent. "We're only getting started, Jiwon."

He turned on his heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Jiwon alone in the darkness of his own misery.

Sergei's footsteps echoed through the corridor, his mind already distant from the room where Jiwon remained bound and broken. He didn't need to linger. The task was done. The coldness that had settled in him made it easier to keep moving forward, one step after another.

As he passed the hallway, a servant appeared, bowing his head respectfully as he approached.

Sergei didn't pause, didn't look at him directly, but his cold voice cut through the stillness. "Take care of him."

The servant, a young man in his early twenties, straightened, confused but obedient. "Sir?" he asked softly, unsure.

"Clean him up," Sergei's voice was sharp, final, like the command of someone used to being obeyed without question. His eyes remained fixed ahead as he walked past the servant, his pace unwavering. "I don't wanna see him like that when I return."

The servant, though reluctant to face the situation, could tell from Sergei's tone that this was not a request. It was an order. Without another word, Sergei left the hallway, his figure disappearing around the corner, leaving the servant standing still for a moment, before hurriedly heading toward the room.