Why me?

Min-jae should have refused.

He knew it.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to protect what little he had left.

But then he thought of Soo-ah.

Her small hands.

Her quiet trust.

Her question: Are we okay?

And he broke.

“…What do I have to do?” he whispered.

Working for Ji-hoon wasn’t what Min-jae expected.

It was worse.

And kinder.

And far more confusing.

He wasn’t forced into violence—not directly. Instead, he was assigned tasks that hovered in the gray: deliveries, messages, being present when needed.

But Ji-hoon always watched.

Always noticed.

“You haven’t eaten,” he would say, placing food in front of him.

Or—

“You’re shaking. Sit.”

Or—

“Don’t lie to me. You’re exhausted.”

Min-jae didn’t understand it.

Why him?

Why this strange, quiet care from a man who ruled through fear?

One night, after a long shift, Min-jae finally asked.

“Why are you helping me?”

Ji-hoon didn’t answer immediately.

He stood by the window, looking out at the city lights.

“Because,” he said slowly, “you remind me of someone I couldn’t save.”

Min-jae’s chest tightened.

“Who?”

Ji-hoon turned to him.

“…Myself.”

The more time passed, the more dangerous it became.

Not the work.

Not the people.

But the way Min-jae began to feel.

Ji-hoon wasn’t gentle—not really. He was sharp, controlled, distant

.

But with Min-jae…

There were cracks.

Small ones.

The way his voice softened without realizing.

The way his hand lingered just a second too long when passing something.

The way he looked at Min-jae like he was both a weakness and something worth protecting.

And Min-jae—

Min-jae started to lean into it.

Without meaning to.

Without wanting to.

Because for the first time in years…

Someone was taking care of him.

But nothing in their world stayed untouched

.

One evening, Min-jae came home to find the

door open.

His heart stopped.

“Soo-ah?”

No answer.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Then—

“Oppa?”

Her voice came from inside.

He rushed in, finding her sitting on the floor, unharmed—but not alone.

One of the collectors stood nearby, smiling.

“We missed you,” the man said.

Min-jae’s blood ran cold.

“I told you,” the man continued, glancing at Soo-ah, “debts don’t just disappear.”

Min-jae stepped in front of her.

“They do now,” he said, voice shaking. “I’m under Ji-hoon.”

The man’s smile faltered.

Just slightly.

“…Are you?”

And that was when Min-jae realized—

Something was wrong.

That night, Min-jae ran.

Not from Ji-hoon.

But to him.

He burst into the office, breathless, terrified.

“They came back,” he said. “You said it was

over—you said she’d be safe—”

Ji-hoon’s expression darkened.

“I did.”

“Then why—”

“Because,” Ji-hoon interrupted, voice suddenly cold, “someone is testing me.”

Silence fell.

Min-jae’s fear twisted into something worse.

“Then fix it,” he whispered. “Please… she’s all I have.”

Ji-hoon stepped closer.

And for the first time—

He touched Min-jae’s face.

Gently.

“I know,” he said.

And it sounded like a promise.

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