Title: The Cost of Silence
I spent the rest of the stormy night on that enormous velvet sofa, exhausted but unable to sleep. My mind replayed two things: the image of Kang Bok Soo, trapped in his terror against the window, and the relentless, silent worry about my mother.
The morning broke, gray and wet. Kang Bok Soo emerged from the bedroom looking immaculate, his face perfectly composed, the heavy anxiety of the night erased by makeup and resolve. He was back to being the arrogant star.
He didn't mention the nightmare. He didn't acknowledge my vigil. He simply handed me his jacket.
"We leave in ten minutes. Find me a strong, black coffee," he ordered, his voice crisp and commanding.
The moment he turned his back, my phone buzzed. It was the text I had dreaded.
It's bad. Mom needs the special hospital. They won't admit her without the payment for the diagnostic tests. We need the money now, do something sis.
My hands started shaking violently. The payment—the borrowed money that I had messed up in the first place—was now a matter of life or death. I had nothing. My only asset was this horrible job, this chain of servitude to the man currently demanding coffee.
I tried to control my breathing, just as I had coached him hours before, but I couldn't. The panic swallowed me whole. I dropped the coffee cup I was holding. It shattered, the black liquid spreading instantly over the hotel carpet, a perfect symbol of my ruined life.
Kang Bok Soo spun around, furious. "What in the world are you doing?"
I couldn't speak. The guilt, the fear, the shame of being inadequate—it all combined into a massive, choking wave. Tears finally burst through, hot and unstoppable. I sank to my knees, not caring about the coffee, only caring that my mother was dying because of me.
"I'm sorry," I gasped, the words tearing from my throat. "I'm so sorry. I'll clean it. I'll pay for it."
He didn't move. He just watched my breakdown, his cold gaze unnerving. "You're crying over spilled coffee?" he asked, his voice sharp with disbelief.
The injustice was too much. The anxiety that he had desperately battled last night was now consuming me. I hated his coldness, especially after the intimacy of the dark.
"It's not the coffee!" I choked out. "It's my mom! She's sick, she needs the hospital, and I don't have the money because my father borrowed every penny for my tuition, and I failed, and now she—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
The room went silent.
Kang Bok Soo's posture remained rigid, but something in his eyes shifted. The cold layer melted away, replaced by the vulnerable, desperate look from the night before. He remembered what it felt like to be completely out of control.
He walked past the spreading coffee stain and crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. For the first time, his expression held no arrogance, only an unnerving intensity.
"How much?" he asked, his voice low and firm.
"It's... it's too much," I whispered, clutching the phone with the terrifying text. "They need the deposit for the tests. It's what the first loan was supposed to cover. And I need to get home."
He didn't hesitate. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his private, metallic debit card. He pressed the card into my hand, closing my fingers over the cold metal.
"This covers the tests and the transport," he commanded, his eyes boring into mine. "Call your family. Fix it. Now."
I stared at the card, then at him. "Mr. Kang, I can't. This is too much. I'll work for years, I'll sign another contract—"
He cut me off, leaning in close until our foreheads nearly touched. His eyes dropped to my lips, lingering in that familiar, possessive way. But now, the flirtation was deadly serious, tinged with a new, dark need.
"You already signed the contract, Peter Bella," he murmured, his breath hot against my face. "And you already saw me at my worst. We are tied together now. You owe me the debt—not of money, but of silence. And loyalty."
He didn't ask for a thank you. He bought my devotion.
"Go," he ordered, pulling back abruptly. "When you return, you will be clean, and you will be ready to work. Don't be late."
I scrambled to my feet, the cold card clutched in my hand. He hadn't just saved my mother; he had completely taken ownership of me. I knew, with chilling certainty, that I would fall harder for this broken, generous, and demanding man than I ever intended.
I ran out of the suite, the metallic taste of guilt and gratitude thick in my mouth. I had just traded my financial freedom for my emotional soul.