The elevator chis were soft and showed the quiet confidence of a multi-billion won corporation.
The doors of the Osung Group headquarters slid open to reveal a lobby of polished marble and floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the sprawling, neon-lit skyline of Seoul.
It was the kind of place that slled of expensive cologne and air-purified silence.
Sung Su-been adjusted the collar of his jacket, taking a breath that felt slightly too shallow for the grandeur of the surroundings.
He followed a silent, bowing receptionist through a set of double oak doors.
"Ah, the man of the hour! Our golden goose! Co in, co in, Su-been!"
Chairman Dongha didn’t look like a strict and feared owner of a big group such as Osung.
If anything he looked more like a grandfather who spent his weekends golfing and donating to orphanages.
He was sitting behind a desk carved from a single piece of dark mahogany, gesturing toward a plush velvet chair.
In the corners of the room, three bodyguards stood like statues, their suits impeccably tailored.
At the Chairman’s words, they all broke into a choreographed, jovial laughter.
"Chairman."
Su-been said, offering a polite bow.
"Sit, sit! Don’t be so formal with your old benefactor."
Dongha bead.
He gestured to one of the n, who imdiately began pouring a fragrant, steaming tea into a delicate porcelain cup.
"I’ve been watching your streams, you know. The numbers are staggering. ’The Rising Star of White Ent,’ they’re calling you.
I told you, didn’t I? Streaming is the fastest way to make money in this new world.
Much better than traditional labor.
Just a few smiles at a cara, a few monsters killed for the viewers, and the gold flows like water.
Hahaha!"
The bodyguards chuckled along, the sound echoing off the soundproofed walls.
The tea was a rare blend from the upper floors of the Tower, supposed to soothe the mana-circuits.
"I’m glad I could et your expectations, Chairman."
Su-been replied, his voice steady.
"Expectations? You’ve exceeded them!"
Dongha leaned back, clasping his hands over his stomach.
"In fact, your success has inspired .
Osung Group is expanding.
We are no longer just looking at construction and electronics.
We are moving into the resource sector of the Tower.
Mana-crystals, monster essences, rare minerals from the Abyss... the market is exploding.
We’re becoming a player-based company. And with you as our shining example of success..."
Dongha leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with a grandfatherly warmth that didn’t quite reach his pupils.
"Then that ans... you’ll be able to bring money much faster."
The air in the room went chill in the blink of an eye.
The laughter from the bodyguards stopped as if a switch had been flipped.
The steam from the tea continued to rise, but the jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by the heavy, suffocating pressure of a predatory intent.
Su-been set his cup down on the mahogany desk.
The porcelain clinked against the wood a small, lonely sound.
"Chairman, about this month’s settlent..."
"Yes."
Dongha said, his voice dropping an octave, the warmth replaced by a dry, raspy edge.
"Let’s talk about the settlent.
You’ve been very busy. Your na is everywhere.
Your contract with White Entertainnt was the talk of the industry.
So, where is it?"
"The guild... they haven’t given the advance fees yet..."
Su-been said, his heart hamring against his ribs.
"They’re currently focusing all their capital on the 11th-floor expedition.
The streaming division is being handled separately, and the accounting won’t be finalized until—"
SLAM!
The tea cup rattled.
Chairman Dongha didn’t look like a grandfather anymore.
He stood up slowly, the movent possessed by a sudden, jagged energy.
Before Su-been could react, Dongha reached across the desk and knotted his hand into Su-been’s hair, yanking his head forward until their noses were inches apart.
Su-been winced, his hands instinctively going to Dongha’s wrist, but the bodyguards stepped forward, the sound of their leather shoes like a death knell.
"A lie."
Dongha hissed, his breath hot against Su-been’s face.
"You think because you’re on the news, I don’t know how guilds work?
White Entertainnt sits on a mountain of gold.
You’re telling they didn’t give their ’Rising Star’ a signing bonus?
You’re telling you’re broke?"
"It’s the truth."
Su-been gasped, his eyes watering from the pain in his scalp.
"The contract has clauses... the payout is performance-based..."
Dongha’s grip tightened, pulling Su-been’s head back at a painful angle.
"Listen to , you little shit.
Do not forget who we are keeping.
Do not forget that your mother is still breathing only because I allow it."
Su-been’s body went rigid.
The rage flared in his gut, hot and white, but it was imdiately dampened by a paralyzing fear.
"Or did you forget?"
Dongha continued, his voice a low, terrifying whisper.
"We are the only ones with the specific life-support materials capable of sustaining an Awakened in a deep slumber.
If I stop the delivery for even six hours, her heart will stop.
Do you want to be the reason your mother finally dies, Su-been?"
Dongha let go violently, shoving Su-been backward.
Su-been stumbled, his legs tangling in the chair, and he fell hard onto his bottom on the cold marble floor.
He looked up, his chest heaving, his vision blurring.
Dongha smoothed his suit jacket and sat back down, picking up his own tea cup as if nothing had happened.
He took a long, slow sip.
"I want the money next week.
Early Monday morning."
Dongha said, staring into the tea.
"I don’t care if the guild you’re in can’t deal with the strears right now because of so tower expedition.
I don’t care if you have to beg, borrow, or steal.
Know where you’ll get the money.
Or better yet, go kill sothing expensive in that sinkhole."
He looked at Su-been with a look of mock disappointnt.
"It’s already hard looking after your mother, Su-been.
Having to use our private resources on her... the costs add up every single day.
The specialized healers, the containnt unit, the stabilization crystals... Co on, Su-been.
You know I don’t like it when we fight.
Can’t you have rcy on this old man?
I’m just a businessman trying to keep his books balanced."
Su-been didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
His throat felt like it was filled with jagged glass.
"And don’t you think..."
Dongha added, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
"...that since you’re now with a huge corporation like White Ent, you’re soone big.
You’re still just the son of a debtor.
After all... if the world was to know that there’s a Returnee among us... it wouldn’t look good for your mother now, would it?"
Dongha began to laugh a dry, hacking sound that filled the sterile office.
"Imagine the headlines!"
Dongha mocked, waving a hand in the air as if visualizing a digital banner.
"’Mother of a deadbeat son who recently got lucky and signed under White Ent... is a Returnee of the Old World Tower???’"
He laughed harder, the bodyguards joining in with their hollow, practiced mirth.
The term ’Returnee’ hung in the air for a while like a curse.
If the public knew Su-been’s mother was a survivor of the old world then she would no longer be a patient and would be used as a lab rat for the governnt.
"Think of the scandal!"
Dongha chuckled, wiping a mock tear from his eye.
"The fans would turn on you in a heartbeat!
Now, get out of here. I have a eting with so Ministry.
And don’t be late on Monday. My rcy has a very specific price tag."
Dongha gestured to the door.
The bodyguards stepped aside, their expressions blank, their silence a final insult.
Su-been stood up, his movents stiff and robotic.
He didn’t look at Dongha nor look at the bodyguards.
He walked out of the office, through the marble lobby, and into the elevator.
He didn’t breathe until the doors closed and he was alone in the mirrored box.
The elevator descended, but Su-been didn’t leave the building imdiately.
He stood in the shadows of the parking garage, tucked away behind a concrete pillar.
The silence of the garage was suddenly shattered by a wet, muffled sound.
Su-been slamd his fist into the concrete wall.
The vibration traveled up his arm, a dull ache that did nothing to numb the lightning-storm of rage in his head.
He slamd it again. And again.
"Damn it... damn it!"
Tears rolled down his eyes, hot and stinging, but they weren’t tears of sadness.
They were the overflow of a man who was being crushed by a weight he couldn’t lift.
His knuckles were raw and bleeding, the red staining the gray concrete.
He leaned his forehead against the pillar, his shoulders shaking with a silent, jagged sob.
The mory of his mother’s pale, frozen face in the glass capsule flashed in his mind.
She was his only anchor, and she was being used as a leash.
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