Two days later, Mr. Han appeared again.
Not outside her house.
Not in the school hallway.
He appeared somewhere smarter.
Somewhere that told Seo-yeon this was never random.
He waited near the small market her mother visited every Friday.
He stood beside the vending machine like he belonged there—like the world naturally made space for men like him.
Seo-yeon spotted him from across the street.
Her heart tightened.
Then she remembered her promise.
Don't meet him alone again.
So she didn't.
She texted her father.
He's here. Market near the bus stop.
Her hands trembled slightly after she hit send.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Mr. Han didn't move.
He didn't look impatient.
He didn't look worried.
He looked… certain.
Like he already knew how this would unfold.
Seo-yeon crossed the street slowly, keeping distance.
She stopped several feet away.
He turned.
His eyes met hers.
That faint professional smile appeared again.
"You brought your father?" he asked.
Seo-yeon's stomach tightened.
She hadn't said she was bringing him.
She hadn't said anything except location.
Yet he assumed.
Which meant he had predicted her response.
Which meant—
He understood her.
Too well.
"My father is on his way," Seo-yeon replied.
Mr. Han nodded once, satisfied.
"You're careful," he said. "That's good."
Seo-yeon didn't respond.
Compliments from men like him were rarely kindness.
They were assessments.
He glanced toward the road.
Traffic moved normally.
People walked past without noticing him.
It was almost insulting how invisible danger could be in plain daylight.
"You want to know what I want," Mr. Han said calmly.
Seo-yeon's fingers curled.
"Yes."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.
He didn't hand it to her yet.
He just held it between two fingers.
A choice.
An invitation.
A warning.
"First," he said, "you need to understand something."
Seo-yeon stared at the card.
Her pulse thudded in her ears.
"I don't do favors," he continued.
"I don't do mercy."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I do transactions."
Seo-yeon kept her face still.
"Then what's the transaction?" she asked.
For a moment, the smile returned.
Not warm.
But… amused.
"You're direct," he said. "That's rare."
He finally held the card out.
Seo-yeon didn't take it yet.
She waited.
He leaned slightly closer—not threatening, but deliberate.
"Asking for the debt amount was step one," he said quietly. "The next step is understanding time."
Seo-yeon's throat tightened.
Time.
He continued.
"People think debt is money," he said. "But money is just the label."
His eyes sharpened.
"Debt is control."
Seo-yeon's stomach turned.
Because he was right.
"Your father's debt is large," Mr. Han said. "But the reason I'm here isn't just the number."
Seo-yeon's eyes narrowed.
"Then why?"
He paused.
A tiny pause—careful, chosen.
Then he said quietly:
"Because your father is the kind of person who dies instead of running."
Seo-yeon went cold.
Her breath stopped.
He watched her reaction closely.
Like he had said it on purpose.
Like he wanted to see if she flinched.
Seo-yeon forced her face to remain calm.
But inside, something screamed.
Why would he say that?
Why would he use that word?
Dies.
It wasn't a metaphor.
Not in her ears.
Not in her memories.
Mr. Han tilted his head.
"You don't like that word," he observed.
Seo-yeon's throat tightened.
"Don't say it," she said quietly.
Mr. Han studied her for a long moment.
Then he leaned back, expression unreadable again.
"Fine," he said.
He held the business card out again.
"This is the rule," he continued calmly. "If you want to negotiate… you do it through me. Not through threats, not through running, not through begging."
Seo-yeon finally took the card.
Her fingers brushed his for a second.
Cold.
Controlled.
He continued.
"And if you want your father to stay safe…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…you stop creating unpredictability."
Seo-yeon's blood ran cold.
Unpredictability.
He meant her.
He meant her interference.
He meant the fact that she had changed the pattern.
He knew she was the disruption.
Her father's footsteps approached then.
Fast.
Heavy.
Angry.
Her father appeared at her side, breathing hard.
His eyes locked on Mr. Han.
"What are you doing talking to my daughter?" he demanded.
Mr. Han didn't flinch.
He simply looked at her father with a calmness that felt like control.
"I'm doing what you should have done," he said.
Her father stiffened.
Mr. Han's eyes sharpened.
"Preparing."
And then he added, quietly:
"You're lucky she's smart."
Seo-yeon felt her father's hand tighten at her shoulder, protective.
But Mr. Han didn't look intimidated.
He looked… almost relieved.
As if he had confirmed something he needed to know.
And Seo-yeon realized, with a cold twist of fear—
Mr. Han wasn't just threatening them.
He was testing them.
Testing whether they could survive what was coming next.