~ Exactly an hour later
The chains scraped as Yoo Song pulled again.
"Let me out!" he shouted. "Do you hear me? Take these things off! Do you even know who I am?"
The boy beside him sighed. "Stop yelling."
"I said let me out!" Yoo Song rattled the chains harder. "I'm not supposed to be here! Do you hear me, you filthy bastards?"
The boy shook his head, lifted his hand, and covered his face. "Why did I even try to help you?"
Yoo Song screamed louder. "Guards! Traders! Whatever you call yourselves! Bring your leader here right now!"
The heavy door opened. Several traders stepped inside, eyes narrowing at him.
One spat to the side. "Noisy rat."
Yoo Song straightened his back. "Finally. Listen well. You've made a mistake. I am not some slave. I am a prince. My family is powerful beyond your imagination. If you let me go now, you'll be rewarded handsomely."
The traders glanced at each other, then burst out laughing.
"Prince?" one said. "From where?"
Yoo Song blinked. "From… from the capital, of course."
"Which capital?"
He froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Well? Speak, 'Prince.'"
"I… I come from…" He swallowed. "The Great Capital. Obviously."
The men howled with laughter.
"The Great Capital? Never heard of it."
Another trader smirked. "Tell us, your highness. Who rules this Great Capital of yours?"
Yoo Song's lips moved, but nothing came out.
"Go on, prince. What's the name?"
"I… you wouldn't know the name. Too complicated for your tongues."
The traders laughed so hard one slapped his knee.
"Too complicated, he says!"
Even the slaves' demeanor shifted uncomfortably. Some shook their heads. The boy beside him dragged his palm down his face again.
A woman whispered, "This is painful to watch."
Another muttered, "He's digging his own grave."
Yoo Song tried again. "Listen! I am serious! I'm telling you, release me, and when my family hears of your loyalty, you'll be showered in gold!"
A trader leaned closer. "And if we don't?"
"Then…" Yoo Song stammered. "Then armies will come. Thousands. No, tens of thousands. All armed. You'll regret this, you know."
The man raised an eyebrow. "What armies? What banners?"
Yoo Song flinched. His mouth hung open again. "The… uh… the Lion Banners. Yes. Fierce lions. Forget it, you wouldn't understand."
The slaves groaned, cringing from the display. One of the more elderly men shook his head slowly as if ready for the angels to take him there and then.
A young woman covered her eyes. "Gods, make him stop."
Another woman laughed through tears. "I can't… this is a thousand times worse than the chains. It couldn't have been me."
The traders smirked. "Lion Banners? Never heard of them. You lie like a child."
"No, I do not!"
"Yes, you do. And you do it badly."
Yoo Song's face twitched. He looked at the ground, then at the ceiling, then at his own shackled hands. "Damn it. Damn it all."
The lead trader's smile then vanished. "Enough games."
Yoo Song's voice cracked. "Wait, wait! Don't hurt me! Please! I'll do anything!"
"Begging now, are you?"
"Yes! I beg you! Spare me! I'll serve you. I'll work. Just don't kill me!"
The trader's fist slammed into his face.
Yoo Song cried out as pain exploded across his cheek.
Another strike hit his stomach. He gagged.
"Stop! Please..."
The whip lashed his back.
He collapsed to the floor. Dust stuck to his lips.
The traders walked away, laughing.
The boy beside him whispered, "I told you to stay quiet."
Yoo Song groaned. His eyes rolled back as the darkness took him.
---
Reliving a part of his memories—one he would have rather forgotten forever.
He was seventeen again.
His mother coughed in bed, skin pale, voice weak.
"Yoo Song… don't worry about me. Just finish school."
He clenched his fists. "I'll work. I'll make money. I'll take care of you."
He dropped out. He worked three jobs. Convenience store, delivery, cleaning. Nights without sleep and his pockets always empty.
The hospital bills grew worse, and yet his mother's cough deepened.
Then it happened very suddenly, and before he knew it, she was gone.
He sat in the empty apartment, staring at her old blanket.
His solemn voice cracked as he tried to force out the words through heavy emotion. "It wasn't enough. Nothing I did was enough."
He started scamming small-time crooks. Loan sharks. Dealers. In short, people who ruined others.
"I'll take from the evil. At least that way it balances things out."
But even as the money flowed, so also did his bitterness deepen, though he didn't realize it.
Soon he didn't care who the victim was. Rich. Poor. Old. Young. Same old, same old. It no longer mattered to him who he extorted.
"I deserve this. I've suffered enough."
By twenty-four, he was already a legend in Seoul's underworld. A con artist with unmatched charisma. A smile to disarm suspicion. A tongue that could persuade even the most rigid and unwilling.
His phone was full of marks, which was synonymous with his pockets being full of cash.
He looked forward to a flight to Dubai. A much bigger stage compared to Seoul, and a brighter future awaiting him.
Then that damn old man called.
And now he lay chained, beaten, humiliated.
His lips bled. His ribs ached.
In the silence of his mind, he muttered, "Curse that old man."