The sun was shining brightly, filling the air with a light spring warmth. The expensive car parked near the luxurious building. A young man with black hair and emerald-green eyes got out. He was dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and a tie, which emphasized his strict yet elegant style.
Jivon took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, deciding not to rush and not enter the building immediately. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a light puff of smoke into the air.
Somewhere behind him, a black SUV slowed down. Jivon paid no attention to this and, finishing his cigarette, casually shook off the ash and crushed the butt with the heel of his shoe. He was about to head to the entrance when he suddenly felt someone's hand on his shoulder.
Turning sharply, he met the gaze of a tall man in a black coat. The man's light hair was neatly combed back, and his amber eyes were fixed intently on Jivon. An exquisite scent of perfume enveloped the air around.
Jivon recognized him immediately, and a tension ran through his body. He had not expected to meet Han Gwanson here.
— Long time no see, Pak Jivon, — said Gwanson with a slight smirk playing on his lips.
— Indeed, long time. And what are you doing here? — a subtle note of irritation ran through Jivon's voice.
— You see, I have a matter to discuss with you, — Gwanson continued, not breaking his gaze. — So please come with me.
— Whatever business you have, I refuse immediately. I'm not interested in anything that concerns you, — Jivon replied, his voice clearly showing disdain. He hated Gwanson and wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Gwanson smiled softly, but his eyes became colder.
— Well, I didn't expect you to agree right away. But I would still prefer to settle this peacefully. Tie him up, — Gwanson ordered his men, and they immediately surrounded Jivon.
Before Jivon could do anything, two bodyguards instantly grabbed him from behind, pressing him to the hood of the black SUV.
— What the hell are you doing, you idiot?! — anger flashed in Jivon's voice. He began to struggle, trying to break free, but the grip only tightened.
A third bodyguard approached from behind, holding a rope. He firmly grabbed Jivon's hands and effortlessly tied them behind his back, pulling the knot so tight that there was no chance of escape. Jivon felt his movements becoming more restricted, and helplessness slowly began to engulf him.
Gwanson, standing a few steps away, watched all of this with a smirk, carefully observing Jivon. His amber eyes never left him, as if he was enjoying every moment of what was happening. Jivon felt his irritation growing with each second, but, bound and held by two bodyguards, he couldn't move a step.
After a moment, Gwanson gave a signal to his bodyguards. They pushed Jivon into the car, forcefully stuffing him into the back seat. They sat on both sides of him, blocking any attempt at movement.
Gwanson calmly sat in the front seat next to the driver, his gaze never leaving Jivon through the mirror. The third bodyguard sat behind the wheel, and the SUV started moving.
— Why are you doing this? I've already paid my debt to you! What do you need from me now?
Gwanson didn't hurry to answer, only turned his head and looked at him through the mirror.
— It's not about money, Jivon. This is something more important. To put it simply, you are now my property.
— What the hell, I'm your property?!
— You see, our families have long had a strained relationship, and I decided to put an end to it. I proposed a contract marriage to your sister. She agreed and signed the contract, but at the last moment, she ran off with her lover.
He fell silent, giving these words time to sink in Jivon's mind. A heavy pause hung in the air.
— And what do I have to do with it?
— You will become my spouse instead of her. The contract has already been signed, — Gwanson replied, his voice calm, as was his expression.
— Are you completely out of your mind? You think I'll agree to this? — Jivon said, not believing his own ears. Everything that was happening seemed absurd, but Gwanson didn't look like he was joking.
— I don't need your agreement, — he said with a light smirk. — I told you: you are now my property, Pak Jivon. You'll learn all the details at my mansion.
— Bastard, I'll rip that contract on your head.
— Don't trouble yourself, dear, — he said with slight irony. — The paper is strong. And if you try, I'll shoot you.