Chapter 40
The man dragged a heavy metal chair across the concrete floor, the screech of protesting iron echoing through the hollow warehouse. He sat directly in front of Haru, leaning forward until the glowing tip of his cigarette was inches from Haru's face. The smell of expensive, cloying tobacco filled the small pocket of air between them.
"I heard you got cast in a drama," the man said, his tone as indifferent as a weather report. He leaned back, his hooded eyes scanning Haru's bound form with a predatory curiosity.
"And so what?" Haru asked, his voice cutting through the damp air like a blade.
He didn't flinch. He studied the man instead, his veteran actor's mind cataloging the expensive watch, the callousness on his hands, and the way the other men in black suits stood at a respectful distance. It was obvious he held a substantial amount of power.
The man stayed silent, blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into Haru's face. He seemed to be waiting for the familiar tremor in Haru's hands, the stutter in his voice, or the tearful plea for mercy. But Haru -the man who was now Sunghoon - only squinted through the haze, his expression hardened by determined resolve.
"Did you really forget?" the man smirked, his face twisting into something menacing.
"Forget what?" Haru snapped.
The puzzle pieces were clicking into place, and they formed a picture of a nightmare. Haru remembered Se-hee's occasional bitter remarks about the "old man" - the original Haru's father. A gambling addict. A coward who had drowned his son in a sea of debt before vanishing into the shadows. The original Haru had spent his youth paying back millions, working himself to the bone just to keep these wolves at bay.
Sunghoon felt a surge of white-hot protective anger for the boy whose body he now inhabited. This child had lived in a pit of darkness, and just as he was about to have a breakthrough, the past was trying to drag him back down.
"Look, I don't care who you are," Haru said, his voice firm and resonant. He shifted in the chair, the zip-ties biting into his wrists, but he didn't look away. "I am not paying any more."
The man paused, the cigarette frozen halfway to his lips.
He stared at Haru, genuinely amazed by the shift in tone. Usually, Haru would collapse. He would ask for the amount, beg for a payment plan, and offer his soul just to stop the shaking. But this version of Haru was refusing to play the part.
"I don't think you realize how this works, Haru," the man began, his voice dropping into a dangerous silk. "Just because --"
"It's not my fault you keep giving a deadbeat money!" Haru interrupted, his agitation boiling over.
In his previous life, Sunghoon had dealt with the underbelly of the 90s entertainment industry - an era where gangs actually funded movie studios and held contracts over actors' heads. He wasn't a stranger to intimidation.
The man put out his cigarette on the arm of his chair, the hiss of the dying ember the only sound in the room. Suddenly, he stood up and grabbed Haru's chin, his fingers digging into the bone with bruising force, wrenching his head up.
Haru didn't squirm. He didn't blink. He looked up into the man's cold, dead eyes with a gaze that was foreign and entirely unfazed.
"Did Jiyo hit you that hard that you forgot your place?" the man seethed, searching Haru's face for a glimmer of the old terror.
But the eyes staring back at him were filled with a cold iron that made the man's grip falter for a fraction of a second.
Haru swallowed, but he maintained the eye contact. He knew he was in a tight spot. These men were capable of anything to get their money back.
"Do you keep giving him money just so you can continue keeping me in my place?" Haru accused, his voice a low vibration.
A flicker of hesitation - a momentary crack in the man's composure - told Haru he had hit the mark. The man let go of his chin and began to circle him like a shark.
"I am done paying for him," Haru continued, his voice echoing in the rafters. "If he has a debt, let him pay it himself."
The man began to laugh - a dry, hacking sound that had no humor in it. He turned Haru's chair forcefully, scanning his features as if looking for a mask he could peel off. He had heard that Jiyo's "altercation" had sent Haru to the hospital with a head injury. He had ordered his boys to back off for a few months to let him recover, but he hadn't expected that a head injury would grow the boy a spine of steel and a snarky tongue.
"If you are done," Haru said, his tone freezing, "I have an early morning tomorrow."
"Just because I was gracious to you, you think you can talk back to me?" the man growled.
"Gracious?" Haru let his head fall back, a hysterical, bitter laugh bubbling out of him.
The man looked at him as if he were staring at a complete stranger. He had written off the previous debts months ago, a "gift" to keep Haru compliant. He had expected the boy to reach out, to crawl back and thank him, but Haru had simply vanished.
"I was gracious when I wrote off your debts," the man said, leaning in close until his breath fanned against Haru's ear. "Just because you offered yourself as collateral."
Haru's laughter died instantly. It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over him. The room went silent, the weight of the revelation settling in his gut like lead. He realized then that the debt wasn't just about money - it was about ownership. And the original Haru had made a deal that Sunghoon was now expected to fulfill.