The contract [Yeongyu]

chapter-2

The day stretched on in hunger. Beomgyu’s head felt light, his legs weak as he drifted through the streets. By the time evening came, he had given up searching for scraps. He sat slumped against a wall, arms limp at his sides, eyes half-closed.

That was when a shadow fell over him.

“Kid,” a voice said, deep and unfamiliar.

Beomgyu’s eyes flickered open. A man stood in front of him, dressed in a neat coat that didn’t belong in this part of the city. He looked down at Beomgyu with something sharp in his gaze not pity, not kindness, but something else.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in days,” the man continued.

Beomgyu swallowed, throat dry. His lips parted, but no words came. He only nodded faintly, like a child caught doing something wrong.

The man crouched, tilting his head. “Come with me. I’ll give you food.”

Beomgyu blinked. His stomach twisted at the mention of food, his body almost moving on its own. His instinct should have been to ask why, to hesitate, but he didn’t. He was too desperate. Too tired.

He followed.

The man’s place wasn’t far just a small building behind the market. Inside, it was warm. Beomgyu stood awkwardly by the door as the man fetched a basin of water.

“Wash yourself,” the man ordered, setting it down.

Beomgyu obeyed without question. He stripped off his tattered shirt, embarrassed by how thin he looked, but the man didn’t look away. His eyes lingered as Beomgyu scrubbed his arms and face, washing away layers of dirt that had clung to him for weeks. When the water turned murky, the man handed him fresh clothes soft, clean, far better than anything Beomgyu had worn in years.

“Put them on.”

Beomgyu slipped into the shirt and pants, the fabric strange against his skin. He looked down at himself, almost unrecognizable.

Then came the food. A plate of rice, some meat, and bread set in front of him.

The smell hit him first—warm and rich. His stomach growled so loud he flinched, but the man only smirked, gesturing for him to eat.

Beomgyu didn’t wait. He grabbed the bread first, tearing it with trembling fingers, shoving pieces into his mouth. He ate fast, like someone afraid it might be taken away. His cheeks puffed with food, eyes watering from how quickly he chewed.

The man leaned back, watching in silence. A satisfied look flickered across his face.

As Beomgyu ate, the man pulled out a phone, turning slightly away but not enough that his words were hidden.

“Yes,” he said quietly, voice smooth. “I have a pretty boy. Young. Obedient. He doesn’t talk back, doesn’t fight. He’ll do whatever you want.”

Beomgyu’s chewing slowed, his eyes lifting faintly. He didn’t fully understand, but the man’s voice made his stomach clench in a new way.

“I only want two million dollars,” the man continued, a smile in his tone now. “Yes, sir. You’ll be pleased with him. Very pretty. Fragile.”

Beomgyu froze, bread still in his hand. He looked at the man, then down again. His lips pressed shut. He didn’t protest. He didn’t move.

Because the food was warm in his stomach, the clothes soft on his skin. And he was too tired to risk losing either.

He only sat there, quiet and small, while his future was sold with a single phone call.

Beomgyu sat still, crumbs clinging to his lips, as the man ended the phone call. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. He didn’t understand everything he had overheard, but the words pretty boy and buy echoed in his chest like stones sinking in water.

The man glanced at him. “Finish eating. He’ll be here soon.”

Beomgyu lowered his head again, chewing slowly this time, though his hands trembled. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t dare. A part of him wanted to who? why?but another part, the larger one, was terrified of the answer.

Minutes stretched into an hour. The plate emptied, his belly finally heavy with food for the first time in weeks. He leaned back against the chair, eyelids drooping, the exhaustion of hunger replaced by the exhaustion of fullness.

Then came the sound of a car.

It stopped outside, engine humming low, sharp and expensive compared to the rickety carts and old bicycles that usually passed through these streets. Beomgyu stiffened, his fingers curling into the fabric of his new pants.

The man straightened quickly, smoothing his coat as heavy footsteps approached. A knock came not polite, but firm, commanding. The man hurried to open the door.

And there he was.

Yeonjun stepped inside like he owned the ground he walked on. Tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filled the small room instantly. His coat was black, expensive, falling perfectly against his frame. His eyes cold, sharp, unblinking scanned the room once before landing on Beomgyu.

Beomgyu’s breath hitched. He lowered his gaze immediately, instinctively.

“This is him,” the man said eagerly, gesturing toward Beomgyu. “Pretty, isn’t he? Young, fragile. He’ll do whatever you want.”

Yeonjun didn’t respond right away. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. Each click of his shoes against the floor made Beomgyu’s chest tighten. Finally, he stopped in front of him.

Beomgyu kept his head down, staring at his lap, fingers knotted together. He could feel Yeonjun’s gaze like a weight pressing on his skin.

Yeonjun reached out suddenly, tilting Beomgyu’s chin up with two fingers. Beomgyu flinched but didn’t resist. Their eyes met for the first time—Beomgyu’s wide, glassy with fear, Yeonjun’s dark and unreadable.

The silence stretched.

Then Yeonjun’s lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something colder.

“I’ll take him,” Yeonjun said simply, voice low and final.

The man grinned, relief flooding his features. “Two million, as agreed.”

Yeonjun didn’t even blink. He pulled out his phone, tapping once, transferring the money without hesitation. For him, it was nothing. For Beomgyu, it was the price of his freedom, paid in seconds.

The man clapped his hands together. “He’s yours now.”

Beomgyu’s stomach sank, heavy despite the food. His body trembled faintly, though he tried to hide it. He wanted to speak, to ask where they were going, what this meant, but the words never came. He only nodded faintly when Yeonjun’s hand closed firmly around his wrist.

“Stand,” Yeonjun commanded.

And like a puppy, Beomgyu obeyed.