Joon-woo's smile faltered, giving way to a flash of true shock. He had anticipated the cowering mouse, the tearful appeal for mercy, the hysterical denial. She had provided him instead with the icy, unyielding face of a collector of debt. The words hung poised in the aseptic air of the room, keener and more lethal than any blade he might have imagined.
"Debts," he echoed, the word tasting foreign on his lips.
"You think you're in a place to collect? You're a woman who slept her way into my penthouse, Seo-yeon. A convenient. comfort."
He advanced another step, bridging the space, his shadow a dark, crushing shadow. But this time, it was not an ownership eclipse. It was the advance of a man who was no longer sure of his footing.
Seo-yeon did not blink. Her eyes were fixed, staring him down, a silent, damning accusation. The air in the room was chill, a museum committing to keeping a delicate, horrific secret, but her veins were blazing fire.
