❤️ THE JUNG FAMILY RESIDENCE ❤️
The clink of silverware was the only sound at the dinner table. Nobody was really eating—just moving food around as if pretending could hold everything together.
Wooyoung kept his gaze on his plate, counting the seconds in his head. He knew something was coming. He could feel it in the way his father sat too still, the way his mother's fingers wouldn't stop trembling against her water glass.
Mr. Jung set his fork down. The sound was quiet, but it made everyone flinch.
"I have something to say," he began, his voice so calm it made Wooyoung's skin prickle.
No one replied and just continued eating.
"You all know the situation. The debt has reached a point I can no longer negotiate. The bank is prepared to seize the house by the end of the month."
Mrs. Jung let out a small, strangled noise. Saeron's eyes welled up, but she bit her lip to keep steady.
"I've tried everything," Mr. Jung went on. "But one offer came through that will settle it all in full."
He looked up, directly at Wooyoung. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, regret—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"I signed the contract this afternoon. You're leaving in the morning."
Wooyoung stared at him, uncomprehending. "What…contract?"
"You'll be going with Choi San," Mr. Jung said flatly. "He has offered paid for you, settling our debts and even the loans I took from him."
"No." Wooyoung's voice cracked. "You're lying."
Mr. Jung didn't flinch. "I'm not."
"Appa…" Saeron whispered. "You can't. That man is—he's—"
"He's a criminal," Mrs. Jung breathed, her hands clutching the edge of the table. "You can't give our son to him. Please, Junghyun—"
"I can. I already did."
Wooyoung felt the floor drop out from under him. His heart thudded so loud he thought he might throw up.
"You sold me?" His voice was a rasp. "To Choi San?"
Mingi let out a slow exhale and sat back in his chair. "It's not like you were contributing anything here," he said under his breath.
Wooyoung turned to him, disbelief morphing into something uglier. "You think this is funny?"
"It's not funny. It's reality," Mingi said coolly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Someone had to pay. It was either you or all of us."
Wooyoung swallowed against the acid rising in his throat. "I'm your brother, hyung."
"You're a liability," Mingi said without hesitation. "And you always have been."
"Stop it," Saeron snapped, voice shaking. "He's your family—"
"This is the only way," Mr. Jung interrupted, voice like stone. "The deal is final. You will leave quietly tomorrow."
"Quietly?" Wooyoung shot to his feet, the chair screeching across the floor. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't keep them at his sides. "You expect me to be quiet about being sold off like property?"
"I expect you to act with the one shred of dignity you have left," his father said, not raising his voice but somehow sounding more dangerous for it.
Mrs. Jung stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her glass. "I won't let you do this," she whispered. "I will not let you sell my son to that man."
"You don't have a choice," he said. His jaw worked, something bitter twisting across his face. "Neither does he."
Wooyoung felt the last of the air leave his lungs. In that moment, he understood. There was no bargaining. No pleading. This was happening.
He turned without another word and walked out.
The hallway blurred at the edges. He stumbled into his room and locked the door behind him, heart slamming so hard it hurt.
He leaned against the wall and tried to breathe. He could still hear them—Saeron begging for him, his mother's voice breaking, Mingi saying nothing at all.
His eyes landed on the small drawer by his bed. The blade was there. He'd hidden it months ago, when the depression was worse.
His hand hovered over the handle. He didn't want to die. But he didn't want to go to Choi San, either.
Maybe it would be easier, a small, cold thought whispered. One cut. You don't have to see tomorrow.
Then a knock rattled the door.
"Wooyoung-ah." Saeron's voice was muffled, but he could hear the tears. "Please…talk to me."
He sank to the floor, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I can't," he croaked. "I can't do this."
"Don't say that," she begged. "Don't—"
"I don't want to belong to him," he whispered.
Silence. Then his mother's voice, thin and desperate. "Baby, please open the door. Please."
He didn't know what was worse—the thought of dying or surviving this.
Outside the door, Saeron's sobs broke what was left of his heart.
He sat down on the floor and opened his drawer with trembling fingers, revealing the blade hidden inside. It was small and sharp—an object he was no stranger too. He gripped it, examining the glint of metal as his breath caught in his throat and looking at his wrists.
"Maybe this is the only way I get to escape my fate,"he said dragging the blade slowly across his skin, feeling its sharpness bite into him. Blood appeared, bright and angry—a stark contrast to the turmoil within. It hurt, but not enough. Not like what he felt inside.
Outside, the sounds of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway. His mother's voice pierced the suffocating silence. "Wooyoung! Open the door! Please, baby—open up!"
Panic laced her tone, a frantic urgency that clawed at his heart. Saeron's cries joined the chorus, filled with fear and desperation.
"Oppa, please! Don't do this! Talk to us!" Saeron's voice broke through the silence, her desperate cries echoing against the closed door. Each word felt like a plea that hung in the air, thick with emotion and urgency.
Wooyoung sat on the floor, the blade trembling in his hand, glinting under the dim light. Inside, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of blood dripping onto the floor—a stark reminder of the pain he was caught in. As the crimson droplets pooled beneath him, his breath grew shallower, weighed down by a mixture of despair and uncertainty.
"Saeron... Eomma…" he murmured weakly, feeling the weight of their concern crash against his wall of isolation.
"Jung Wooyoung, please! Answer me!" Mrs. Jung's voice was raw and strained, laced with a mother's fear.
"Wooyoung!" Saeron chimed in, her tone trembling with urgency. "We'll fix this, I swear—just open the door!"
"Mom…I'm s... sorry" he whispered, his throat tight with emotion. The blade felt heavy in his hand, a stark reminder of the choice he had faced. But as their words washed over him, he felt the weight begin to lift.
"Please, my baby, open the door! Don't do this! I can't afford to lose you!" Mrs. Jung's voice broke through the silence, filled with fear and urgency.
His hands shook as he pressed the blade against his wrist, the cold metal biting into him and his vision started to fade, and the world slipped away. With one last breath, he let the darkness take him, collapsing on the floor. The blade clattered down, leaving behind a small pool of blood.
Outside, the knocking grew louder. "Wooyoung!" Saeron cried. "Please! Just open the door!"
As he drifted into unconsciousness, the last sounds faded away, leaving him in a quiet void....