Mr. Jeon swallowed, the knot in his throat mirroring the anxiety twisting in his gut. He’d been ushered through the club’s dim interior by Park’s hulking bodyguards, finally deposited before the man himself. “Where’s my money, Jeon?” Park’s voice was a low rasp, laced with impatience. The late payment was a persistent thorn in his side.
Jeon sat, his leg bouncing a frantic rhythm against the worn leather of the booth. “Sir, I… I don’t know where to find that kind of money.”
Park sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I don’t care *where* you find it, Jeon. I need it *now*.” He flicked a hand, a signal. The bodyguards flanking him began to withdraw their weapons, the steel glinting under the club’s low lighting.
“Dad, come on,” Jimin whined, his voice petulant. “The man’s practically trembling. I want to go already, I have a date in an hour!”
Park’s eyes narrowed. “In a minute, son.” He fixed Jeon with a predatory stare, taking another slow sip of whiskey. “So, let’s simplify things. My money… or your life? Which will it be?”
“Dad, please, just kill him already!” Jimin snapped, his impatience bubbling over. “If you’re going to do it, just do it.”
Park ignored his son’s outburst, continuing to press Jeon. “Please sir, I have a son to take care of…”
Jeon’s phone vibrated against his thigh. He glanced at the caller ID – his son. A wave of frustration washed over him. “Speaking of my son, he’s calling me. Excuse me.”
“Jungkook, I’m busy,” he muttered into the phone, keeping his voice low.
“Why?”
“I’m… preoccupied.”
“Let me guess, gambling again?”
“I seriously can’t talk right now!”
“It’s an emergency.”
Jeon’s gaze flickered back to Park, a silent apology forming on his lips. “What’s the emergency?”
“You need to go to the store. Get dead rats.”
“Dead rats? Why?”
“To feed our snake.”
Jeon’s jaw tightened. “We don’t *have* a snake!”
“Well, now we do.”
“Where did you get a snake?”
“It’s… a long story.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Get rid of it, I’m hanging up.”
“There are actually *two* snakes, but I lost one.”
“Find them and get rid of them before I get home!”
“But—"
“Get rid of the snakes!” Jeon barked, slamming the phone shut. He turned back to Park, offering another strained apology. Jimin, however, was now openly intrigued.
“How old is your son?” Jimin asked, his eyes alight with something unsettling.
“Seventeen,” Jeon answered, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine.
“I want him,” Jimin murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “I want *him*.”
Jeon choked, his eyes widening in disbelief. “I… I’m sorry?”
“Dad, please!” Jimin pleaded, batting his eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.
Park’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Alright, perhaps we can… negotiate.”
“Please, I would be so grateful,” Jeon stammered, his voice laced with desperation. He still hadn’t secured the money, but at least he’d bought himself some time.
Jimin leaned in, whispering to his father. “Don’t get too excited. You have one week to deliver everything you owe me… or I take your son.” He punctuated the threat with a sharp clap.
“I… I can’t let you have my son,” Jeon stammered, praying for another option.
“It’s either that, or you die,” Park stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
Jeon’s shoulders slumped. He knew he was cornered. He’d find the money, even if it meant selling his soul. “O-Okay. I’ll get you your money.”
“So we have a deal? My money, or your son?” Park held out his hand, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Jeon hesitated, then gripped the man’s hand, sealing his fate.
“Deal.” The word felt like a death knell.
“Aww, but I wanted him *now*!” Jimin whined, pouting.
“Patience, Jimin,” Park sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Can we go now?” Jimin scoffed, already bored.
“Sure.” Park stood, as did Jeon. “We’ll be in touch.” He shook Jeon’s hand one last time, his grip tight and unforgiving.
As the bodyguards ushered Jeon out of the club, a chilling dread settled over him. He’d made a deal with the devil, and now he had one week to deliver a fortune… or lose his son forever.