The following week passed in a haze of bitterness and denial. Jaehyun drowned his frustration in food and mindless distractions, but nothing could shake the gnawing sense of betrayal. His parents' cold words replayed in his head on an endless loop, fueling his simmering anger. For the first time in his life, he felt adrift, untethered from the golden safety net that had always shielded him from reality.
He needed a plan—a way to prove them wrong, to claw back the power and privilege they had so carelessly stripped away. But before he could act, fate intervened in a way he could never have foreseen.
The night was unusually still as Jaehyun left the exclusive Gangnam nightclub, stumbling slightly from too many shots of overpriced whiskey. His friends—if they could even be called that—had long since left, leaving him alone on the deserted street. The crisp night air did little to clear his foggy mind as he fumbled with his phone, trying to call his driver.
"Stupid app," he muttered, his thumb swiping aimlessly at the screen. He didn't notice the black van parked across the street, its windows tinted and engine idling.
The first blow came out of nowhere.
Pain exploded in the back of Jaehyun's head as he crumpled to the ground, his phone skidding across the pavement. He tried to cry out, but a rough hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his voice. Panic surged through him as two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks.
"Quiet," one of them hissed in heavily accented Korean. "Move, and you die."
Jaehyun's heart pounded as they hauled him to his feet, his vision swimming. He thrashed against their grip, but their hands were like iron, dragging him toward the van.
"Help!" he managed to yell, but the street was empty, the vibrant nightlife of Gangnam now a distant memory. A cloth was pressed over his face, the sickly-sweet smell of chemicals flooding his senses. His struggles grew weaker, his limbs heavy, until darkness swallowed him whole.
Jaehyun woke to the sensation of cold metal digging into his wrists. His head throbbed, and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, he tried to move, only to find himself bound to a metal chair. Panic surged anew as he took in his surroundings—a small, windowless room with concrete walls and a single steel door.
"Where...?" His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "What...?"
The door creaked open, and a tall man stepped inside, his sharp features framed by dark, graying hair. He was dressed in a tailored suit, but there was nothing polished about the way he carried himself. His presence exuded danger, like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Ah, you're awake," the man said in accented English, his tone disturbingly casual. "Good. I was starting to think we'd used too much chloroform."
Jaehyun glared at him, fear and confusion warring in his chest. "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"
The man smirked, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. "Me? I'm no one important. Just a messenger. But as for what we want... let's just say you've become a valuable bargaining chip."
Bargaining chip. The words sent a chill down Jaehyun's spine. "My family will pay you," he said quickly, clinging to the hope that his parents would come to his rescue. "Whatever you're asking, they'll pay. Just let me go."
The man's smirk deepened, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Ah, the arrogance of the wealthy. Always so sure that money will solve everything." He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Unfortunately for you, your family doesn't seem to share your confidence."
Jaehyun froze. "What... what do you mean?"
The man straightened, his expression darkening. "We reached out to your family, Mr. Choi. Offered them a chance to buy back their precious son. And do you know what they said?" He took another drag, letting the silence stretch unbearably. "They said you weren't worth the trouble."
Jaehyun's breath caught in his throat, his blood running cold. "That's not possible," he stammered. "You're lying."
The man shrugged. "Believe what you want. The fact remains: your family has abandoned you. Which means you belong to us now."
"No..." Jaehyun shook his head, his voice breaking. "No, they wouldn't... they wouldn't do that."
But deep down, a part of him knew it was true. He thought back to the disdain in his father's eyes, the cutting words of his mother, the smug smiles of his siblings. They had always seen him as a failure, a burden. And now, they had washed their hands of him completely.
"Welcome to your new life," the man said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and grinding it under his heel. "Don't worry—we'll make sure it's... productive."
With that, he turned and walked out, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Jaehyun was left alone in the cold, empty room, his mind racing with a mix of terror, anger, and disbelief.
For the first time in his life, he had nothing. No money, no power, no family to fall back on. He was utterly, completely alone.
And it was only the beginning.