The contract [Yeongyu]

chapter-3

Yeonjun’s hand didn’t let go of Beomgyu’s wrist. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was firm unshakable, leaving no room for escape. Beomgyu stumbled to his feet, head still bowed, his thin frame trembling under the weight of the man’s presence.

The seller bowed his head, grinning wide. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.”

Yeonjun didn’t answer. He tugged Beomgyu forward, leading him out of the room without a second glance back.

The night air hit Beomgyu’s face, sharp and cold. He blinked against it, eyes adjusting to the glow of street lamps, until his gaze fell on the car waiting outside. Sleek, black, polished until it gleamed. He had never seen anything like it in his life.

The door was opened for Yeonjun by a driver who bowed quickly. Yeonjun motioned with his chin. “In.”

Beomgyu hesitated only for a second before sliding inside. The seats swallowed him whole, leather soft against his skin. He sank back awkwardly, hands clenched in his lap, afraid to touch anything.

Yeonjun slid in beside him, the air shifting immediately. The door closed, shutting out the night, shutting Beomgyu into a world that smelled of leather, cologne, and power.

The engine hummed to life. The city outside blurred past the tinted windows as they drove.

For a long time, there was silence. Beomgyu’s eyes flickered once toward Yeonjun but darted back down immediately when he felt that piercing gaze meet his. He sat perfectly still, every muscle tense, breathing shallow.

Yeonjun studied him openly. The boy’s collarbones jutted beneath the shirt, his hands small and pale, his lashes long enough to cast shadows on his cheeks. Fragile. Obedient. Exactly as promised.

“You don’t ask questions,” Yeonjun said finally, his voice deep and calm, almost casual.

Beomgyu startled slightly at the sound, then shook his head quickly. “N-no, sir,” he whispered, his voice small, hoarse from disuse.

Yeonjun’s lips curved faintly, the closest thing to amusement. “Good. I don’t like questions.”

Beomgyu swallowed hard, nodding again.

The ride continued in silence, but inside Beomgyu’s chest, his heart raced. He didn’t know where they were going, didn’t dare to guess. All he knew was that this man had bought him, and from the way he carried himself, Beomgyu understood one thing very clearly whatever Yeonjun wanted, Beomgyu would have to obey.

The car slowed, turning onto a long, private road. Gates opened automatically as if recognizing their master. Beyond them stretched a mansion tall, sprawling, glowing with warm lights that felt nothing like home.

Beomgyu’s lips parted faintly, eyes widening despite himself. He had never been near such a place.

Yeonjun noticed, though he said nothing. He only placed a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, firm and guiding.

“Welcome to your new life,” Yeonjun murmured, voice low.

And Beomgyu, trembling and silent, followed him inside.

The mansion swallowed Beomgyu whole.

High ceilings stretched above him, chandeliers glittering like stars he couldn’t reach. The polished floors reflected every trembling step he took, and the walls were lined with paintings of men in dark suits and piercing eyes ancestors, perhaps, or reminders of the bloodline that built this empire.

Beomgyu followed quietly, each sound of his bare footsteps echoing against the marble. His gaze darted from the long velvet curtains to the golden frames, but he quickly lowered his eyes again, remembering himself.

Yeonjun walked ahead, unhurried, his presence alone commanding silence. When they reached a grand living room, he stopped. Beomgyu halted instantly behind him, head bowed, hands folded in front of him like a schoolboy awaiting instructions.

Yeonjun turned slowly, his eyes cold but steady as they fixed on Beomgyu.

“Listen carefully,” he said, voice smooth yet carrying weight that made Beomgyu’s chest tighten.

Beomgyu nodded quickly. “Y-yes, sir.”

Yeonjun stepped closer, circling him once, like a predator studying its prey. “From this moment forward, you are mine. You will not argue, you will not disobey. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Beomgyu whispered, his voice trembling.

“You will serve me,” Yeonjun continued, his words deliberate. “Not as a guest. Not as family. As mine. You will act as my personal servant. Everything I need, you will do. Without hesitation. Without complaint.”

Beomgyu’s lashes lowered. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Still, he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Yeonjun’s gaze sharpened. “Say it properly.”

Beomgyu blinked, confused for a moment, before stammering out, “I—I will serve you, sir.”

Satisfied, Yeonjun’s lips twitched faintly, though no warmth touched his expression.

“Good. Then remember the rules.”

He raised one gloved hand, counting off with his fingers.

“Rule one: You speak only when spoken to. If I ask you something, answer. Otherwise, silence.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, his head bowing lower.

“Rule two: You will never leave this house unless I allow it. If I find you wandering, there will be consequences.”

Beomgyu’s fingers tightened against his shirt, but his voice stayed obedient. “Yes, sir.”

“Rule three,” Yeonjun said, his tone dropping slightly, making Beomgyu shiver. “You will keep your head down. Always. You are not my equal. You do not look me in the eyes unless I lift your chin myself.”

Beomgyu’s breath caught, remembering the way Yeonjun had done just that in the seller’s house. He nodded again, whispering, “I understand, sir.”

Yeonjun studied him for a long moment, letting the silence weigh down. Then, finally, he stepped back.

“Good. At least you learn quickly.”

Beomgyu’s chest loosened slightly at the words, though fear still pressed down on his shoulders.

Yeonjun gestured toward the hall. “There is a room prepared for you. Not a bedchamber don’t mistake yourself for that. It’s a small space near mine. From now on, you will sleep there. So that when I need you, I won’t wait.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tomorrow,” Yeonjun added, his eyes narrowing, “I’ll test how useful you really are.”

Beomgyu’s lips parted slightly, his stomach twisting again not with hunger this time, but with a deeper ache he didn’t know how to name.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered again, obedient as ever.

And Yeonjun, with a faint smirk, turned away.