I flinched as the heavy glass door exploded inward.
Sharp, icy fragments rained across the damp linoleum, clicking against the metal legs of our tables.
A freezing gust of wind swept into the shop, carrying the smell of wet asphalt.
It instantly cut through the warm, fatty steam of my father's boiling beef bone broth.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I felt a sharp sting on my cheek.
I reached up, my fingers brushing against a tiny bead of blood.
Before I could process the pain, a massive shadow blocked the wind.
Sa Jin-woon moved with terrifying speed, his broad chest shielding me from the flying debris.
His white uniform remained spotless, but his black-gloved hands were tense.
"Get down," he commanded, his gravelly voice dropping to a dangerous register.
His hand remained clamped on my waist, his fingers digging into my soft hip through my thin yellow apron.
I fidgets nervously, my boots sliding on a stray piece of glass.
"Hae-won!" my father cried out, his voice trembling slightly as he stumbled behind the counter.
"Are you hurt?"
I avoids eye contact with everyone, staring instead at the glittering shards on the floor.
"I'm fine, Father," I whispered, though my voice trembles slightly.
But I wasn't fine.
I was trapped between two of the most dangerous heirs in the country.
Kyung-min didn't let go of my wrist.
Even with glass dust on his tailored shoulders, his grip remained cold and high-pressure.
"You have a very dramatic way of making an entrance, Jin-woon," Kyung-min murmured.
His stormy dark eyes didn't look at the broken door.
They were locked on Jin-woon's black-gloved hand on my hip.
The scent of Kyung-min's expensive pine wood and rosin cologne clanged against Jin-woon's crisp winter rain.
It was a suffocating luxury, completely out of place in our greasy kitchen.
It made the smell of our boiling bone broth feel incredibly cheap and dirty.
Through the shattered frame of the doorway, three men stepped into the shop.
They didn't look like students.
They wore heavy, dark coats and carried thick, metal clipboards.
The leader was a middle-aged man with a scarred lip and a cruel, sneering face.
It was Mr. Han, the chief enforcer for the district's high-interest loan syndicate.
I knew him.
He was the man who had forced my father to sign away our restaurant's original deed.
"Well, well," Mr. Han sneered, his leather boots crunching loudly on the broken glass.
"I heard the Song family was hosting a high-society party tonight."
My father shrank back, his face turning paper-white.
"Mr. Han," my father gasped, his hands trembling as he gripped his metal soup ladle like a weapon.
"We... we paid this month's interest. I have the receipt."
Mr. Han laughed, a dry, grating sound that made my teeth ache.
"The interest rates just went up, old man," Han said, tapping his clipboard against a metal table.
"By order of the new landowners."
He looked at me, his eyes running down my slender frame with a slimy, slow gaze.
"And since you can't pay, we're taking the industrial stove and the broth pots tonight."
"No!" I cried, trying to step forward.
If they take the stove, my father has nothing left.
He will die of a broken heart before they even put him in a cell.
Jin-woon's grip on my waist tightened, holding me back with effortless, crushing strength.
"Stay behind me, Hae-won," he murmured, his breath hot against the crown of my head.
I felt my chest heaving against his rigid chest.
"Let me go!" I whispered desperately, my fingers clawing at the pristine white fabric of his jacket.
"They're going to ruin everything!"
"I told you," Jin-woon whispered, his glacial black eyes turning to the intruders.
"I own your present."
He looked at Mr. Han, his expression completely flat and devoid of any human emotion.
It was the look of a god looking at an insect.
"Who authorized this seizure?" Jin-woon asked, his calm voice carrying a terrifying authority.
Mr. Han laughed again, but his smile faltered under Jin-woon's unblinking stare.
"The Sa Foundation's subsidiary, kid," Han said, trying to puff out his chest.
"So unless you want to get hurt, run along back to your mansion."
Kyung-min let out a cold, mocking chuckle from my other side.
"A subsidiary?" Kyung-min asked, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.
"How embarrassing for you, Jin-woon."
"Your own family's dogs don't even recognize their master."
Jin-woon did not blink.
He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his private cell phone.
He pressed a single button, placing the call on speaker.
"Identify the manager of the Mapo district subsidiary," Jin-woon said into the receiver.
A cold, professional female voice replied instantly.
"Director Kang, young master."
"Fire him," Jin-woon said, his tone as casual as ordering a cup of coffee.
"And liquidate the Mapo office by midnight."
The line went dead.
Mr. Han's sneer froze on his face.
His phone in his breast pocket began to ring violently.
He pulled it out with shaking hands, his eyes widening as he read the caller ID.
"D-Director Kang?" Han stammered, pressing the phone to his ear.
We could hear the frantic, screaming voice from the other end, even over the sound of the rain.
"What did you do?!" the voice screamed. "Our entire division just got shut down! We're ruined!"
Han's phone slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the wet floor next to a piece of glass.
He stared at Jin-woon, his knees visibly shaking.
"Y-You're..." Han whispered, his face turning a sickly shade of gray.
"Sa Jin-woon," Kyung-min supplied, his voice dripping with smooth, venomous amusement.
"The sole heir to the foundation that owns your very existence."
"Now," Jin-woon murmured, taking a slow step forward, dragging me along with him.
His towering frame loomed over Mr. Han, casting a massive, suffocating shadow.
"Get out of my sight before I decide to liquidate your life as well."
Mr. Han didn't say another word.
He stumbled backward, tripping over his own boots as he scrambled out of the broken doorway.
His two men followed him, running into the dark, rain-slicked alleyway.
The shop was quiet again, save for the hum of our old refrigerator and the boiling soup.
But the tension in the room had only grown thicker, wrapping around my throat like a wire.
I stared at the empty doorway, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
He destroyed an entire company with a three-second phone call.
To him, my world is just a playground he can burn down for amusement.
Kyung-min's grip on my wrist tightened again, drawing my attention back to him.
"He's very efficient, isn't he, Hae-won?" Kyung-min murmured, his lips curving into a cold smile.
"But don't forget why they were here in the first place."
"The Sa Foundation is the one who holds your father's old debt."
"He created the fire just so he could play the hero and put it out."
I looked up at Kyung-min, my voice trembles slightly.
"Is that true?" I asked, my heart dropping.
Is Jin-woon the one who arranged all of this?
Jin-woon didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned me around, his massive hands gripping my shoulders to force me to face him.
His touch was heavy, hot, and completely unyielding.
He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his dark obsidian eyes pinning me to where I stood.
"Does it matter?" Jin-woon whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"The debt is real, Hae-won."
"And your father cannot pay it."
"But you can."
His fingers slid down my shoulders, tracing the sensitive skin of my neck, his leather gloves cold against my burning flesh.
"Keep running that tongue over your bottom lip, little bird, and see how long I can play the perfect gentleman," he murmured.
My chest heaved, my breath hitching as his thumb brushed my lower lip.
"Don't touch me," I whispered, though my body felt completely frozen under his predatory gaze.
"I'd ask if you've lost your mind, Jin-woon," Kyung-min interrupted, his voice dropping its smooth tone, cracking with absolute jealousy.
"But we both know you never had one to begin with."
Kyung-min stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing my back, trapping me entirely between the two heirs.
"She is not a piece of paper you can trade," Kyung-min hissed.
"I can pay her father's debt twice over."
"But she will come with me."
I was trapped in a vice.
If I let Kyung-min pay, I would be indebted to a dangerous rebel who wanted to use me to destroy his own family.
If I signed Jin-woon's contract, I would become his personal possession, locked away in a gilded cage of white leather and cold marble.
My father is looking at me with so much guilt.
His tears are mixing with the greasy steam of the broth.
I can't let him go to prison.
I can't let them destroy him.
I avoids eye contact with both of them, staring at the black fountain pen Jin-woon still held in his gloved hand.
"Hae-won," Seok-min's voice suddenly echoed in my mind.
I remembered the warm chestnut mochi in the greenhouse.
The quiet, safe feeling of his soft, bookish world.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
The contrast between that peaceful sanctuary and this suffocating kitchen was excruciating.
"Decide, Hae-won," Jin-woon murmured, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a knife.
He pressed the cold metal of the fountain pen into my palm, his fingers wrapping over mine to force my grip.
"Sign the paper, and your father is safe."
"Refuse, and I will have the police here in five minutes."
Kyung-min's hand clamped over my other wrist, his grip so tight my fingers began to go numb.
"Don't do it, Hae-won," Kyung-min growled. "I will protect you."
"You can't protect her from me," Jin-woon said, his eyes locking onto Kyung-min's with a lethal, unblinking challenge.
The silence in the room was absolute.
My father let out another broken sob.
I looked down at the white paper on the greasy table.
The grease had almost fully soaked through the corner, turning the clean white parchment translucent.
My hand shook so violently the pen clicked against the metal surface.
I have to do it.
I have to save him.
"I'll sign," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
Jin-woon's eyes flared with a dark, triumphant satisfaction.
He released my shoulder, his hand sliding down to guide my trembling fingers toward the signature line.
Kyung-min's grip on my wrist didn't loosen; instead, he pulled me back with a sudden, violent jerk.
"Hae-won, no!" Kyung-min roared, his perfect mask completely shattered as he grabbed the paper.
The contract tore in half between them, a sharp sound like a gunshot in the small room.
Jin-woon's face instantly darkened into something truly terrifying.
He didn't look at the torn pieces of parchment on the table.
Instead, his gaze slowly drifted down to Kyung-min's hand, which was still clamped tightly around my wrist.
A slow, chilling smile touched the corners of Jin-woon's lips.
"You really are too easy to read, Kyung-min," Jin-woon murmured, his voice returning to its usual flat, amused drone.
He reached down and casually swept the torn halves of the paper off the grease-stained counter.
They fluttered onto the wet floor, and as the translucent parchment flipped over in the fluorescent light, my heart stopped.
The sheets were completely blank.
There was no legal jargon. No signatures. No high-interest terms, and certainly no mention of my father's restaurant deed.
It was nothing but a crisp piece of heavy, premium academy printer paper.
"A... blank paper?" my father gasped, his ladle lowering as he stared at the wet scraps.
Jin-woon pulled off his black leather gloves, tucking them neatly into his pristine white uniform jacket.
"You didn't actually think a high-interest loan syndicate could operate in this district without my family knowing, did you?" Jin-woon asked, his tone dripping with quiet disdain.
"Mr. Han is merely a hired actor. A very cheap one, at that."
He stepped closer, his shadow once again claiming the light in our tiny, cramped kitchen.
"I don't need a piece of paper to own your time, Hae-won," he whispered, looking directly into my eyes.
"And certainly not a vulgar debt contract."
Kyung-min's hand slowly loosened around my wrist, his storm-grey eyes widening slightly as he realized he had been completely played.
"You staged this," Kyung-min hissed, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists.
"To see if I would interfere."
"To see if you would break your perfect, elegant composure for a scholarship student," Jin-woon corrected smoothly.
He turned his back on Kyung-min, fixing his dark, unblinking eyes back on me.
"Your father's old debt was settled by the Sa Foundation three days ago," Jin-woon said, his voice dropping to a low, intense register.
"Consider it a token of appreciation from the school administration."
I stared at him, my mind scrambling to catch up with the sheer momentum of his deceit.
My father is safe.
The restaurant is safe.
But the relief that washed over me was instantly swallowed by a deep, cold dread.
"A token of appreciation... for what?" I managed to whisper, my fingers curling tightly into the fabric of my thin yellow apron.
Jin-woon leaned in slightly, his crisp, rain-slicked scent wrapping around me, obliterating the greasy smell of the boiling broth.
"For taking the absolute top spot on the preliminary Merit List," he murmured.
A cruel, challenge-filled glint sparked in his obsidian eyes.
"The real game begins tomorrow morning on the academy's central bulletin board, Hae-won."
"And if you think I will let a commoner keep my crown, you are sorely mistaken."
Kyung-min stepped between us, his shoulders tense, his pine-scent cologne flaring as he shielded me from Jin-woon's looming frame.
"She earned that ranking fairly, Jin-woon," Kyung-min said coldly.
"And I will make sure she keeps it."
Jin-woon didn't reply. He simply gave a soft, amused hum, turned on his heel, and walked out of the shattered glass doorway into the heavy downpour.
The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of wet asphalt, leaving the three of us standing in the wreckage of the door.
The phantom contract was gone, completely forgotten in the dirt.
But the terrifying truth of the Merit List was just beginning.