The contract [Yeongyu]

chapter-8

The next morning came quietly.
The sun bled through the enormous curtains of Yeonjun’s mansion bedroom, soft golden rays stretching across the silk sheets. Beomgyu stirred faintly, his lashes fluttering, but his body ached everywhere like every nerve remembered the night before. He let out a tiny whimper and rolled onto his side, burying himself deeper into the sheets that still smelled faintly of Yeonjun’s cologne.

He didn’t notice at first, but Yeonjun was already awake. Standing in front of the full-length mirror near the wardrobe, he was buttoning the cuffs of his pristine white shirt. His black suit jacket hung neatly over the back of a chair, his tie draped loosely around his neck. The man moved with a calm precision, every gesture sharp, controlled like he was born to own the world.

Beomgyu blinked through the haze of sleep, eyes locking onto him. For a moment, he forgot about the soreness, the heaviness in his limbs. He just stared. The clean lines of Yeonjun’s body under the crisp shirt, the veins running down his forearms as his fingers worked the cuff buttons, the slight furrow in his brow as he adjusted his appearance everything looked too perfect, too intimidating.

He’s so hot… Beomgyu thought, a guilty flush creeping over his cheeks.

Yeonjun caught the movement in the mirror. Their eyes met through the reflection, and the corner of his lips tugged into the faintest smirk. He turned around, fixing his tie slowly as he walked closer to the bed.

“You’re awake,” his deep voice rumbled. “I thought you’d sleep all day after last night.”

Beomgyu’s face burned hotter. He clutched the sheets against his bare chest, chewing on his lip, unable to form an answer. His silence only amused Yeonjun more.

The CEO finished knotting his tie, then slipped his jacket on with effortless grace. He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at Beomgyu as though he was inspecting a possession rather than a person.

“You’re sore, aren’t you?” Yeonjun asked, his tone half-teasing, half-knowing.

Beomgyu’s eyes flickered down, embarrassed, but he gave the smallest nod.

Yeonjun chuckled under his breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a sleek black card. He placed it on the nightstand, close enough for Beomgyu to see the silver letters of his name engraved on it.

“here,” Yeonjun said, his voice sharp but smooth, “spend as much as you want. Clothes, food, whatever the hell you think you need.”

Beomgyu blinked at it, wide-eyed. “W-what?” His voice was soft, hoarse from sleep.

“I don’t like leaving things unfinished,” Yeonjun explained, straightening his cuffs one last time. “I made you ache last night. Consider this… compensation.” His smirk deepened. “Though don’t expect me to always be this generous.”

Beomgyu stared at the card as if it were glowing. No one had ever handed him something like that. His entire life until now had been scraping for scraps, digging through garbage bins for leftover food, fighting with exhaustion just to stay alive another day. And here, a single piece of plastic held more money than he could even imagine.

His heart raced. He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching with hesitation before he reached out and picked it up carefully, like it was too precious to touch.

“You mean I can… really use this?” Beomgyu whispered, his voice trembling.

Yeonjun leaned down, his shadow falling over the boy as he pressed one hand to the headboard beside Beomgyu’s head. His other hand brushed a stray strand of hair from Beomgyu’s face, tilting his chin up until those wide, innocent eyes had no choice but to meet his.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” Yeonjun’s voice was a dangerous whisper. “. Spend it as much as you want.”

Beomgyu’s breath hitched. His stomach knotted, but not with fear this time with a dizzying mix of disbelief and excitement. His whole body still hurt, but that pain seemed to blur under the rush of what Yeonjun had just given him.

“T-thank you, hyung,” Beomgyu murmured shyly, hugging the sheets tighter as if to hide his face.

Yeonjun chuckled darkly, straightening up again. “remember to come back before 7 o'clock .” He reached for his watch, clasping it around his wrist with practiced ease, and glanced back at the boy one last time before heading toward the door.

Beomgyu lay there, staring at the card in his hand. His mind spun. Food real food. Clothes that weren’t ripped or stained. Maybe even a bed of his own, soft blankets, anything that didn’t remind him of the streets. His lips trembled as a small, disbelieving smile spread across his face.

For the first time in forever, Beomgyu felt like he had a piece of the world in his hands.

And Yeonjun so untouchable, so terrifying was the one who had put it there.

°°°

Sorry, everyone for the slow update's but I am sick right now so I can't really do much.