The contract [Yeongyu]

chapter-9

They whisked him into the store, pulling out racks of the latest collections. Dresses that shimmered under the light, coats with delicate embroidery, shoes with jeweled straps. Beomgyu’s eyes widened as they piled pieces into his arms. He tried on outfit after outfit in the enormous fitting room silky blouses tucked into slim trousers, oversized sweaters that swallowed him whole, even flowing skirts that brushed his thighs.

Each time he stepped out, the assistants clapped softly, praising how he looked. “You wear this beautifully, sir,” one said with genuine awe. Another whispered, “The CEO has good taste…”

Beomgyu’s heart pounded at the mention of Yeonjun. He turned back to the mirror, seeing himself sparkle in clothing he never imagined he’d touch. He remembered nights spent sleeping in torn jeans, using newspapers as blankets. Now he twirled in soft fabrics, his reflection looking almost too delicate to believe.

By the time he left the boutique, several shopping bags hung from his arms, each with golden lettering. But he wasn’t done. He stepped into a bakery café nearby, the sweet scent hitting him so hard his knees nearly gave out.

Rows of cakes, pastries, and breads glistened behind the glass. Beomgyu pressed his palms to it like a child. “O-One of everything,” he whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop himself.

The cashier blinked but nodded, quickly ringing it up. When Beomgyu handed over the black card, she swiped it carefully, her expression respectful when she saw the name.

Moments later, Beomgyu sat at a small corner table, his eyes wide as the staff placed tray after tray in front of him cream-filled buns, strawberry tarts, rich chocolate cake, golden croissants. His hands shook as he picked up the first piece, biting into it.

The sweetness exploded in his mouth, and Beomgyu almost cried. He chewed slowly, savoring it, crumbs sticking to his lips. For the first time in so long, he ate without rushing, without fear of someone snatching it from him. Bite after bite, pastry after pastry, until his stomach ached from fullness, but his heart felt warmer than ever.

Leaning back in his chair, surrounded by bags of luxury clothes and empty plates of desserts, Beomgyu touched the card again in his pocket. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t starving. He wasn’t freezing. He wasn’t invisible.

And deep down, he knew it was all because of Yeonjun.

The sky outside was deep navy when the chauffeur pulled the sleek black car into the driveway of the mansion. The headlights washed across the gates before they opened, swallowing the car into the estate. Beomgyu sat in the back seat, hugging his bags of clothes and pastries like they were a lifeline. He was humming softly under his breath, lips still dusted with the sweetness of sugar from his café trip.

But the clock on the dashboard made his stomach drop. 9:45 PM.

Yeonjun had told him before 7.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the mansion doors. Beomgyu stepped out, his shiny loafers clicking nervously against the stone steps. His arms were heavy with bags luxury logos everywhere, pastel ribbons tied around the handles, receipts tucked away in little envelopes. He thought maybe he could sneak up the stairs, drop everything in the room before Yeonjun saw.

But when the massive double doors opened, Beomgyu froze.

Yeonjun was there.

He sat in the living room, sprawled back on the leather couch like a king on his throne. His legs were crossed neatly, his arm resting lazily over the backrest, his tie loosened just slightly. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table beside him, and the glow from the chandelier made his sharp jawline look even more lethal. His phone rested in his hand, but the moment Beomgyu walked in, he set it down with slow deliberation.

“Puppy,” Yeonjun drawled, his voice calm too calm. “What time did I say you’d be back?”

Beomgyu froze in the doorway, his arms trembling around the mountain of shopping bags. “S-Seven…”

Yeonjun’s lips curled into a sharp smirk. “And what time is it now, doll?”

Beomgyu glanced at the clock on the wall, then lowered his eyes instantly. “N-Nine forty-five.”

“Mm.” Yeonjun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving the boy. “So, tell me, baby do you not know how to read a clock, or do you just like disobeying me?”

Beomgyu’s throat went dry. His fingers fumbled with the handles of the bags, the pastel ribbons tangling in his grip." I lost track of time,daddy”

Yeonjun chuckled low, shaking his head slowly. “i see.” His gaze swept over the shopping bags, his voice dipping lower. “my little puppy really went wild today.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flamed, his head ducking down. He looked like a guilty child caught red-handed.

Yeonjun stood, and the shift of his body made Beomgyu’s knees wobble. He walked slowly, his polished shoes echoing against the marble floor until he was standing right in front of Beomgyu. With one finger under his chin, Yeonjun tilted his face up, forcing the boy to meet his eyes.

“You look pretty, though,” Yeonjun murmured, his gaze flicking to Beomgyu’s soft blouse, the skirt brushing his thighs. “Like a little doll someone dressed up and forgot to put back on the shelf.”

Beomgyu’s lips parted, breath caught in his throat. “wanted to look nice for you…”

Yeonjun’s smirk deepened. He leaned down, his breath warm against Beomgyu’s ear. “You don’t have to try, baby. You're already mine.But when I give you rules, my puppy follows them. Understood?”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, his voice trembling. “Y-Yes, daddy.”

“Good.” Yeonjun plucked one of the pastel shopping bags from Beomgyu’s hand, peeking inside before tossing it carelessly onto the couch. “Now, come here.”

Beomgyu blinked, clutching the rest of the bags nervously. “Wh-where?”

Yeonjun tapped his lap and sat back down on the couch, his eyes glinting. “Here, doll. You’ve kept me waiting long enough. Time to show me exactly what my spoiled little baby bought with my card.”

Beomgyu swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing hotter as he shuffled closer, the bags rustling in his hands. He could feel Yeonjun’s gaze burning into him, sharp and heavy, every step making him feel smaller, weaker but also impossibly wanted.

And as he stopped in front of him, Yeonjun’s voice dropped into that dangerous softness again:

“Now… sit, puppy. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

°°°