Chapter Text
Sungkyu sat in the hard chair next to his brother's hospital bed his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the crisp white sheets. He ran a hand down his face, then back through his hair, his eyes scanning the hospital bills clutched in his hand.
The numbers blurred together, but he didn’t need to read them again to know what they meant. A deadline. A sum he couldn’t afford. The weight of it pressed against his chest, suffocating.
How was he supposed to come up with that much in less than two weeks? The deadline was more about starting to pay, but even that Sungkyu didn't have.
The faint rustling of sheets pulled him from his thoughts. Myungsoo stirred, blinking sluggishly as his eyes landed on Sungkyu.
"Hyung…" Myungsoo's voice was hoarse, but there was warmth in his drowsy smile. "You’re here."
Sungkyu jolted a little, shoving the bills under his jacket before his brother could see them. He forced a smile, leaning forward to press a hand lightly to Myungsoo’s forehead.
"Of course, I am," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Where else would I be?" Myungsoo frowned, his gaze sweeping over Sungkyu’s face.
"You look exhausted." Sungkyu huffed, shaking his head.
"I always look like this. It’s my natural charm." Myungsoo didn’t laugh. His fingers twitched weakly against the blanket.
"You’re working too much again, aren’t you?"
"I’m working just enough," Sungkyu corrected smoothly, tucking the blanket around Myungsoo’s arms. "You, on the other hand, are moving too much. You nearly pulled your IV again." Myungsoo groaned, turning his head slightly.
"Hyung…"
"Do you want Nurse Park to yell at me again?" Sungkyu continued, feigning exasperation. "Because last time, I swear she almost swung that clipboard at my head."
That finally earned him a small chuckle. Myungsoo sighed, his expression softening, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes.
"Just… take care of yourself too, okay?" Sungkyu squeezed Myungsoo’s hand, his thumb brushing over his cold fingers.
"Always," he murmured.
It was a lie, but Myungsoo was too tired to catch it.
Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his grip slackening as sleep pulled him under again.
Sungkyu sat there in the dim glow of the hospital room, his hand still wrapped around Myungsoo’s. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence, a stark contrast to the chaos that had shaped their lives.
He had been sixteen when their world fell apart. Their mother had been sick for months, her body weakening until there was nothing left but exhaustion in her eyes and a frail whisper where her voice used to be. He remembered her last breath, how her hand had gone slack in his, how Myungsoo had clung to him, sobbing into his chest as their father stood motionless at the foot of the bed.
The grief had been unbearable, but what followed had been worse.
Their father left not long after. No warning, no explanation, just a crumpled wad of cash shoved into Sungkyu’s hands in the dead of night.
"You’ll manage," he had said, voice hollow.
Sungkyu had stared at him in disbelief, the weight of the money burning in his palm.
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"
His father didn’t answer. He turned away, stepping toward the door as if he was merely heading out for a late-night stroll.
Sungkyu’s chest had tightened with panic.
"You can’t leave," he said, voice rising. "Not now. We need you!" His father hesitated, just for a second. A brief, fleeting pause before he muttered,
"You’re old enough."
And then he was gone.
Sungkyu had run after him, desperation clawing at his throat.
"Appa!" He had begged, grabbing his father’s sleeve, trying to pull him back inside. "Please, don’t do this!"
But his father barely glanced at him, shaking him off like an afterthought.
The door shut.
The house fell silent.
And just like that, Sungkyu was left alone with a terrified thirteen-year-old brother and a future he wasn’t prepared for.
From that night on, there had been no choice but to keep moving. No time to grieve, no room to break. Myungsoo had needed him, so he became everything: brother, guardian, provider. He had managed to finish high school and got into college, but dropped out after a year of struggling to balance studies and work, taking whatever jobs he could find just to keep them afloat.
Years had passed, and yet here he was, still fighting the same battle, still clutching bills he couldn't afford to pay.
Sungkyu exhaled shakily, his grip on Myungsoo’s hand tightening.
Myungsoo had always been sick, but never to this extent. They should have moved to Seoul so Myungsoo could start college as well, but he suddenly got worse, and stayed that way since then.
Sungkyu's thoughts were cut short by the buzzing of his phone. He glanced at the screen: Sungyeol. Exhaling softly, he answered, keeping his voice low.
"Hyung," Sungyeol’s voice came through, warm and familiar despite the distance. "How’s Myungsoo?" Sungkyu looked at his sleeping brother, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"He's… stable for now."
"That’s good," Sungyeol sighed in relief. "And you? Are you eating properly? Sleeping?" Sungkyu scoffed lightly, leaning back in the stiff chair.
"Since when do you sound like a worried mother?"
"Since you started working yourself into the ground," Sungyeol shot back. "I swear, you’re as bad as Myungsoo. He’s probably worrying about you more than himself." Sungkyu glanced at his brother’s peaceful face and didn’t respond. Sungyeol sighed.
"I’ll visit soon, okay? Probably this weekend. I’ll bring food, so don’t even think about saying no."
Sungkyu’s lips twitched at that, his voice softer. "Alright."
A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Sungyeol spoke again, quieter this time.
"You know you can talk to me, right? If you need anything…" Sungkyu closed his eyes briefly.
"I know."
"...Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t overdo it," Sungyeol added gently.
"I will," Sungkyu murmured, the words feeling foreign but comforting all the same.
They lapsed into silence before Sungyeol finally said his goodbyes.
"See you soon, Hyung. And go to sleep." Sungyeol cut the call. That was rich coming from him, but Sungkyu only sighed.
The hospital room fell back into silence, save for the beeping machines.
Sungkyu let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening in his lap.
Desperation clawed at him.
He needed a solution. Fast.
---
Sungkyu’s days blurred together, a relentless cycle of work, exhaustion, and fleeting moments of rest. He had taken on three part-time jobs, convinced that juggling them was the only way he could keep their heads above water. But now, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, he was forced to acknowledge that the weight of it all was becoming unbearable.
His first job started early. A small café tucked in the corner of a busy street, where he spent hours serving coffee, pastries, and smiles. The grind was steady but unremarkable—he learned the regulars' names, their orders, their habits. Some days, the hum of the espresso machine and the clatter of dishes were comforting. Other days, it felt like the loudest thing in the room, the noise ringing in his ears as his energy drained away with each passing hour.
After that, he'd rush to his second job: a convenience store a few blocks away. The hours there were longer, more monotonous. Stocking shelves, answering calls, ringing up customers who barely glanced at him. He became a shadow, a fixture in the store. The fluorescent lights flickered above him, and his eyes grew heavier with each passing minute. But the pay was decent, and it was steady. At least it was enough to cover the bills that weren't hospital related.
Finally, as dusk turned to night, he would make his way to his third job: a warehouse sorting items for an online retailer. This was the one that had nearly broken him. The physical strain was immense, lifting heavy boxes, moving them from one side of the building to the other, constantly on his feet. His body ached after hours of repetitive motion, but he kept pushing through. He had no choice. Myungsoo needed him. The bills needed to be paid. There was no room for weakness.
The final straw came during a late-night shift, around 2 a.m. He had been loading boxes onto a conveyor belt when his vision blurred. His hands fumbled, and then, without warning, the world went black. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the cold concrete floor, the sound of distant voices muffled by the ringing in his ears.
When he woke, his coworkers hovered over him, their faces etched with concern, but all he could feel was the cold grip of shame.
He had fainted. At work. In front of them all.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His body couldn’t handle it anymore.
The manager insisted he go home and rest, but Sungkyu had no time for that. He had to work. He had to make up for the lost time, the lost money. But deep down, he knew that he was reaching his limit. The walls of his life were closing in, and he could no longer ignore the toll it was taking on him.
The fainting episode had shaken him, but it also forced him to confront the inevitable. He had to let something go.
And so, with a heavy heart, he had made the decision to drop his night shift job at the warehouse. It wasn’t an easy choice—he had promised himself he would keep going, no matter what—but he knew that his health, and his sanity, were on the line.
And it could have been enough if Myungsoo weren't sick.
What he gained from those jobs wouldn't cover the hospital bills due in a week and few days. Maybe never. He would have to work his whole life to pay for it.
Now, as he sat in the dimly lit café, nursing his third cup of coffee for the day, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his dreams slipping further away. He had wanted more for himself. For Myungsoo. For their future. But with each passing day, those dreams seemed more and more like distant, unreachable stars.
---
When Sungkyu walked into the hospital room that evening, he was greeted by the familiar sound of his brother’s voice. Sungyeol was sitting beside Myungsoo’s bed, talking animatedly, his voice a comforting presence in the otherwise sterile room. Myungsoo, despite his weak condition, was listening intently, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles every so often.
As soon as Sungkyu entered, both of them perked up, their eyes brightening at the sight of him. Sungyeol stood immediately, gesturing for Sungkyu to sit down.
“Finally, you’re here,” Sungyeol said, his voice a mix of relief and playfulness. “Sit, sit! I brought you a sandwich.”
Sungkyu glanced at the sandwich in Sungyeol’s hand and, though his stomach churned from exhaustion, he smiled faintly and sat down. He was so used to his routine—coming here to take care of Myungsoo, making sure everything was alright, all while trying to juggle the heavy weight of his own life, that when someone else took care of him with those kind of small gestures, it always moved him.
Sungyeol set the sandwich in front of him, but before Sungkyu could even take a bite, Sungyeol’s eyes narrowed, his tone suddenly more serious.
“You look like you’ve been running a marathon. Are you sleeping at all? You look dead on your feet, Hyung.” Sungkyu chuckled softly, waving a dismissive hand.
“I’m fine, Yeol. Just a little tired, that’s all.” But Sungyeol wasn’t having it.
“Tired? You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he retorted, his brow furrowing in concern. “You need to take care of yourself. Myungsoo’s recovery is important, but so is your health. If you collapse from exhaustion, how are you going to help him?”
Sungkyu opened his mouth to respond, but Myungsoo’s voice stopped him. It was quiet, almost hesitant, as he gazed at Sungkyu with guilt in his eyes.
“Hyung, you should rest more,” he murmured, his face drawn with the weight of his own concerns. “You’ve been doing so much for me… I don’t want you to overdo it.”
Sungkyu’s heart softened at the sight of his younger brother, knowing how much guilt Myungsoo carried on his shoulders, despite his own condition. But Sungkyu shook his head gently, offering a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine, Myungsoo. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
The silence in the room hung heavily for a moment. Sungyeol studied his face, his gaze lingering with an unspoken concern before he sighed, relenting.
“You’re impossible, you know that? Fine, but you better promise me you’ll rest tonight. I’ll drag you home if I have to.” Sungkyu couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Alright, I promise,” he said softly, though his exhaustion gnawed at him more than he let on.
He finally took a bite of the sandwich, the food settling in his stomach in a way that, though small, was enough to ground him for the moment. Myungsoo’s gaze remained on him, still tinged with guilt, but Sungkyu wasn’t going to let him shoulder any more of it.
“Eat, rest,” Sungyeol urged, his voice warm but insistent. “We’ve got you. Just take care of yourself, too, okay?”
Sungkyu nodded, the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders but softened by the quiet care of his family.
And as he watched them interact, a familiar ache settled in his chest. The easy way they talked, the way Myungsoo’s tired eyes brightened at Sungyeol’s presence—it reminded him of all they had lost and all they still clung to.
His mind drifted back to the weeks of arguments, the tension that had settled in their small home when Myungsoo had first told Sungyeol to go. The plan had always been for them to move to Seoul together, to start a new chapter side by side, Myungsoo and Sungyeol attending the same college. But life had other plans. Myungsoo's condition had worsened so suddenly that the idea of leaving Jeonju became impossible.
Sungyeol had refused to go at first. He had been adamant, determined to stay behind, to find another way.
"I can defer," he had argued, his voice laced with desperation. "It’s just school, I can go later. But you need me here now."
But Myungsoo had been just as stubborn.
"You’re not putting your life on hold for me," he had said, his voice weaker than usual but firm. "We always said we’d do this together, right? This is me holding up my end of the deal. You go first."
It had taken days of back-and-forth before Sungkyu had stepped in. He had seen the way Myungsoo struggled with guilt, the way Sungyeol wavered between love and responsibility. So, he had spoken to Sungyeol privately, forcing him to see reason.
"You can’t help him if you throw away your own future," Sungkyu had told him, his voice quiet but resolute. "He needs to know that at least one of you is still chasing your dreams."
Sungyeol had caved after that. Begrudgingly, reluctantly, but he had gone.
Now, despite the distance, he did everything he could to bridge the gap. He visited whenever he could, though his schedule often made it difficult. But he never failed to call. Every night, without fail, Myungsoo’s phone would light up with Sungyeol’s name, and no matter how exhausted Myungsoo was, he would answer.
And now, as Sungkyu watched the two of them, he could see the relief in Myungsoo’s eyes, the way he leaned into Sungyeol’s presence like an anchor. Even if things weren’t perfect, even if they had to navigate this uncertain future separately, at least they still had each other.
---
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed faintly, blending into the steady beeping of the register as Sungkyu scanned a customer’s items. It was a quiet night, the usual lull between the evening rush and the night crowd. He worked on autopilot, mind half-occupied with thoughts of Myungsoo’s medical bills and the endless cycle of exhaustion that had become his life.
It wasn’t until he was restocking a shelf near the break room that he caught snippets of a hushed conversation between two coworkers. Their voices were low, almost conspiratorial, and the way they glanced around before speaking made Sungkyu instinctively tune in.
"-pays insanely well," one of them murmured. "Like, enough to clear your debts in months, not years." The other let out a nervous chuckle.
"Yeah, if you don’t mind selling yourself."
Sungkyu’s hands stilled on the shelf.
"Don’t act like you haven’t considered it," the first voice continued. "People are desperate. The network only takes in those who meet their standards, but if you’re in, you're set."
"‘Standards’? You mean the whole ‘elite’ thing?"
A pause. Then, a hushed confirmation.
"It’s not just rich guys looking for fun. It’s… people with power. Connections. If you get lucky, you can make more in one night than in months at this place."
A shadowy "network" offering quick money. It sounded suspicious. Dangerous. But it also sounded like a solution.
Sungkyu forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he moved to the next aisle, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. But the words lingered.
The work was shady, that much was obvious. It wasn’t just escorting or bartending at high-end clubs, there were clear implications that went beyond that. But…
Desperation clawed at his chest, the image of Myungsoo’s hospital bills flashing through his mind.
For the first time, he let himself wonder just how far was he willing to go.
---
Sungkyu sat in the dim glow of his laptop screen, the ticking clock on the wall marking the late hour. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing the search terms he never thought he would.
Elite escort network. Underground high-class services. Exclusive clientele.
At first, all he found were glossy agency websites, promising luxury and discretion, but those weren’t what he was looking for. The whispers at work hinted at something far less polished, something that operated beneath the surface. He had to be smarter.
He switched tactics, searching through forums, hidden corners of social media, and anonymous confession threads. It took hours of sifting through vague mentions and dead-end links before he finally found something—fragments of conversations, coded words, a few posts quickly deleted but still lingering in caches.
The terms were brutal.
High pay, yes. Enough to change a life overnight. But it came at a cost. Absolute submission. No questions, no limits, no backing out once you were in. The clients weren’t just the wealthy, they were the powerful. Men who expected obedience, who saw their escorts as property for the night. The network wasn’t a real agency, that's just a façade; it was an unspoken agreement among the elite, a carefully guarded secret. And those who spoke too freely? They simply disappeared.
A cold shiver ran down Sungkyu’s spine.
His disgust warred with the suffocating weight of reality. Myungsoo’s medical bills kept piling up. Even with three jobs now reduced to two, he was barely keeping afloat. Every month, the debt grew faster than he could pay it off.
His gaze flickered to his phone, to the unread messages from the hospital. Another overdue notice.
He clenched his fists.
He wasn’t naïve. He knew what this meant. This was selling himself. And yet, desperation whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could survive it. Maybe he could endure it long enough to save his brother.
But at what cost?
Sungkyu shut his laptop with a sharp breath, pressing his hands over his face.
He couldn't believe that he was considering this.
---
The rhythmic beeping of the monitors filled the hospital room, blending with the soft hum of the night. Myungsoo fought to keep his eyes open, his voice sluggish as he tried to maintain the conversation.
"You should sleep," Sungkyu murmured, adjusting the blanket over him. Myungsoo hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly.
"...Hyung, wouldn’t it be better if I got discharged?" Sungkyu’s hands stilled. "The bills are getting worse, right? I can still continue treatment at home," Myungsoo reasoned, his voice quiet but firm. "It’s not like-"
"No." Sungkyu’s tone left no room for argument.
"Hyung-"
"You’re not in any condition to leave."
"But-"
"Myungsoo."
The weight behind his name silenced the younger instantly. Sungkyu sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before his expression softened.
"Just focus on getting better. Let me worry about the rest."
Myungsoo stared at him for a moment before exhaling, finally relenting. His body sagged further into the pillows, exhaustion overtaking his will to argue. Sungkyu sat beside him, smoothing back his hair like he used to when they were kids.
"Sleep," he murmured, watching as Myungsoo’s eyes finally fluttered shut.
Only when he was certain his brother was deep in rest did Sungkyu stand. He lingered for a moment, gaze lingering on Myungsoo’s peaceful face before he quietly slipped out of the room.
The moment he stepped outside the hospital, the cold night air hit him like a slap. He took a deep breath, hoping to clear his mind, but it only made the weight in his chest heavier.
The information he had gathered clawed at him. The brutal reality of the network, the impossible choice it presented. Every logical part of him screamed that he shouldn’t even consider it, but the hospital bills, the endless debt, and Myungsoo’s frail body haunted him.
He felt trapped, suffocated by desperation.
Sungkyu shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tightening.
He didn’t have an answer.
And he was running out of options.
---
Sungkyu spent his nights hunched over his laptop, eyes burning from the harsh glow of the screen. His fingers moved with practiced precision, sifting through layers of digital footprints, buried forums, and whispers on the dark corners of the web.
The network was elusive, deliberately so. It operated in the shadows, leaving only vague traces for those desperate enough to look. But desperation made people reckless, and mistakes left breadcrumbs.
Days passed in a blur of exhaustion and relentless searching. He listened carefully at work, piecing together rumors from hushed conversations. He took calculated risks, reaching out in places where curiosity could be dangerous. Every step felt like walking a tightrope over a chasm.
And then, finally, he found it.
A name.
The elusive organization had a moniker whispered among those who knew of it—The Eden Circle.
A name alone wasn’t enough, but it was a start. It led him to a discreet contact method, one that required careful wording and implicit understanding. A single message, if sent correctly, could open a door he wasn’t sure he wanted to step through.
Sungkyu stared at the information on his screen, his throat dry.
He had the means to reach them now.
---
During a lull at the café, Sungkyu sat down, his fingers tightening around his phone as he stared at the contact like it might give him the answers he was looking for. His chest felt tight, his stomach a tangled mess of nerves.
He sighed. Then again. And again.
His thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation gnawing at him. This is a mistake. A huge mistake.
But Myungsoo’s pale face flashed in his mind.
Before he could change his mind, he stood abruptly, stepping out the back door into the cold night air. His breath was unsteady as he finally pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his ear with trembling fingers.
The line barely rang twice before a cold, detached voice answered.
"Agency Eden Circle. What do you need?" Sungkyu’s breath hitched. He gripped the phone tighter.
"I-" His voice cracked, forcing him to swallow and try again. "I’m looking for a job."
A pause. Then, "How did you get this number?"
Sungkyu’s pulse pounded in his ears.
"Online," he said quickly, trying to sound composed. "I… I found some information." Silence stretched between them, and Sungkyu almost thought she had hung up.
Then, in that same emotionless tone, she said, "Midnight. The building behind the old theater on Sangwon Street. Be there." The call ended with a sharp click.
Sungkyu stared at his screen, the words still echoing in his mind. His whole body was trembling now, the weight of what he had just done settling over him like a crushing force.
He couldn’t believe it.
He had just stepped into something he might never be able to walk away from.
---
After checking on Myungsoo one last time, Sungkyu silently slipped out of the hospital. His steps were slow but deliberate as he walked through the dimly lit streets. The city’s usual hum of life felt distant, muffled by the heavy pounding in his chest.
By the time he reached the designated building, his palms were slick with sweat. He hesitated at the entrance, staring up at the imposing structure. His stomach churned. He could still turn back.
But he couldn't.
He inhaled sharply and stepped inside.
A man in a tailored black suit stood by the entrance. Without a word, he turned and led Sungkyu down a long hallway, the sound of their footsteps eerily loud in the silence. The air was thick with something unspoken, something suffocating.
When they reached the end of the corridor, the man knocked once before pushing open a door.
Inside, the office was sleek, dark, and unnervingly cold. The man sitting behind the desk exuded authority—his sharp features, styled blond hair, and tailored suit screamed wealth, but his smirk held something cruel. His eyes, dark and calculating, assessed Sungkyu like he was nothing more than a product on display.
“Sit.”
The order was calm, almost lazy, but it still made Sungkyu's heart jump. Sungkyu swallowed and obeyed, lowering himself onto the chair opposite the desk. His back was stiff, his hands clenched together on his lap.
The man leaned back, regarding him with amusement.
“You’re nervous.” Sungkyu forced himself to hold his gaze.
“I- It’s my first time in a place like this.” The man chuckled.
“I can tell. Name?" Sungkyu licked his lips, throat dry.
"Kim Sungkyu." The man extended a hand.
“Key. I handle the selection process. And some more. If you get through this interview, you’ll be working under me. Understand?” Sungkyu nodded.
“Yes.”
Key studied him again, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“So, Sungkyu… how did you find out about us?” Sungkyu hesitated before answering.
“The web." Key hummed.
“The web?” Sungkyu nodded.
“Most people wouldn’t dig that deep,” Key mused, tilting his head. “Tells me you must be desperate.” Sungkyu flinched at how easily Key read him, but he didn’t deny it.
Key smirked.
“Alright. Let’s get the basics out of the way. Age?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Experience?” Sungkyu hesitated.
“…None.” Key’s smirk widened.
“Ah, a real first-timer.” His eyes flicked over Sungkyu again, this time slower, more appraising. “You’re not exactly the type that usually gets scouted. Too… plain.”
Sungkyu bit the inside of his cheek but said nothing. Key leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“So you never sold your body before?” Sungkyu’s breath hitched at the bluntness of the question. His fingers twitched in his lap.
“…No.” Key raised a brow.
“A virgin, then?” Sungkyu shook his head quickly.
“No.” Key’s lips curled in amusement.
“Really? You look untouched.” Sungkyu swallowed.
“I had a boyfriend in college.” Key snorted.
“That’s cute. How long ago?” Sungkyu hesitated.
“Two years.” Key clicked his tongue.
“So, no recent experience. That’ll make things more… interesting.” Sungkyu clenched his hands together, trying to keep his breathing steady.
Key tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Here’s how it works, Sungkyu. This isn’t some sleazy back-alley deal. We cater to an elite clientele—powerful, wealthy individuals who pay a lot for exclusivity. In return, we expect absolute obedience. No questions, no complaints.” He let the words sink in before continuing.
“You don’t get to say no to what they want from you. If that’s a problem, you should leave now.” Sungkyu’s stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay still.
“…How much does it pay?” Key smirked.
“That depends on you. Some clients pay for a night, others for exclusivity. The better you perform, the more valuable you become.” He leaned back. “But let’s be clear. Once you sign on, there’s no backing out easily. This world isn’t kind to quitters.”
Sungkyu exhaled slowly, his fingers trembling slightly. Key watched him, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Still interested?” Sungkyu hesitated, his mind screaming at him to walk away. But the thought of Myungsoo kept him rooted in place.
He met Key’s gaze and, with a steady voice that betrayed the storm inside him, said: “Yes.”
Key’s smirk deepened. “Good.”
Key leaned forward, his smirk widening as he reached for a folder on his desk. With deliberate slowness, he flipped it open, revealing neatly printed documents.
"Let’s go over the details," he said smoothly, his tone almost mocking. "I want you to fully understand what you’re getting into."
Sungkyu sat frozen, his fingers digging into his knees as Key began to list the conditions.
"First and foremost—absolute obedience. No backing out, no complaints. Clients get what they pay for, and we ensure they leave satisfied. You do what you're told, no matter how degrading, no matter how painful."
Sungkyu’s stomach twisted. He forced himself to nod, though his throat felt tight. Key continued, flipping through the papers.
"Second, your body no longer belongs to you. Once you sign the contract, you’re our property for the duration of your employment. You will not make independent decisions regarding your health, your appearance, or your availability. Any changes must be approved."
Sungkyu clenched his fists. Property?
Key glanced up, smirking at the way Sungkyu’s jaw tightened.
"Having second thoughts?" Sungkyu exhaled shakily but didn’t speak. Key chuckled and leaned back.
"Our clients... They’re not your average men with money. They’re the ones who enjoy breaking things. The powerful, the untouchable. Politicians, businessmen, men with influence." He tilted his head. "Most of them prefer control. Many enjoy pain—inflicting it, that is."
Sungkyu’s body went cold.
"Sadistic, cruel, and completely without limits." Key smiled, flipping another page. "You will be trained, of course. Taught how to behave, how to endure, how to please. Your purpose is to be what they want, when they want."
Sungkyu’s throat clenched. His breathing was uneven now. He pressed his hands into his lap, trying to steady himself, but the nausea was creeping up fast.
Key tapped the final page of the contract.
"This is the agreement of consent. Once you sign, you will have officially sold your soul to us."
Sungkyu swallowed hard. He felt lightheaded, like the walls were closing in.
"Do you still want in?" Key asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Sungkyu couldn’t answer. He could barely breathe.
Key leaned back in his chair, watching Sungkyu with that same smug, knowing smirk.
"Do you have any questions?" he asked lazily, as if he already knew the answer. Sungkyu hesitated, licking his dry lips. His voice came out weaker than he wanted.
"The... training. How does it work?"
Key raised a brow, clearly amused. He tapped his fingers against the desk, feigning deep thought before letting out a short chuckle.
"You know what? Maybe you don’t need it." Sungkyu blinked.
"What?" Key shrugged.
"Some clients like their pets clueless. Others don’t care as long as they get what they paid for. So why waste resources on training you?" He tilted his head. "You’ll just have to take whatever comes your way."
Sungkyu’s stomach churned. He swallowed down his nerves and forced himself to speak.
"Can I have time to think about it?" His voice barely wavered. Key’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"You have until tomorrow night."
Sungkyu exhaled shakily, nodding once. Key didn’t bother with a goodbye. He simply waved a dismissive hand.
"That’ll be all. Don’t keep me waiting." Sungkyu stood, legs unsteady, and left the room.
The moment he stepped outside, the cold night air hit him like a slap. He sucked in a sharp breath, but it did nothing to calm his racing heart. His hands were shaking. His entire body trembled as the weight of what just happened crashed over him.
He leaned against the nearest wall, chest rising and falling too quickly.
What the hell did he just do?
---
The whole day passed in a blur. No matter how hard Sungkyu tried to focus, his mind kept circling back to last night’s conversation with Key. The smirk. The words. The contract that felt like a death sentence.
He made mistakes at work—spilled coffee, gave the wrong change, forgot orders. His manager’s sharp voice cut through his haze more than once.
“Kim Sungkyu, get it together!” But how could he?
At the hospital, Myungsoo noticed. Even in his weakened state, he peered at Sungkyu with worried eyes.
“Hyung, are you okay?” His voice was soft, tired. Sungkyu forced a smile.
“Just tired.” Myungsoo didn’t look convinced, but he was too drained to press.
As Sungkyu sat by his bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of his younger brother’s chest, something in him clicked into place.
It didn’t matter how sick the job was. It didn’t matter how much it disgusted him.
Myungsoo needed him. And if this was the only way-
Then so be it.
If he had to sell his soul, he would.
---
Key’s smirk widened the moment Sungkyu stepped into the room.
“I knew you’d be back,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Sungkyu didn’t respond. His hands were clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to take a seat.
Key slid a stack of papers toward him.
“Here’s the contract. Standard terms. You obey, you get paid. You refuse, there are consequences.” He tapped the page. “Read the fine print carefully. Not that it changes anything.”
Sungkyu swallowed, his throat dry as he skimmed the pages. The words blurred together—submission, exclusivity, penalties. Each clause felt like another chain locking around his neck.
Key continued, his voice almost amused.
“Your salary depends on the client. The richer and crueler they are, the more they pay. Some will want you regularly. Some will throw you away like trash after one night. Either way, you take what you're given.”
Sungkyu's hands trembled as he picked up the pen. His chest felt too tight, his breathing shallow. This was it. No turning back.
"This contract binds you to our agency. Your identity stays undisclosed unless you willingly give it. The agency will never share the information of its workers," Key stated, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.
With a deep, shuddering breath, he scrawled his name at the bottom of the page.
Key plucked the contract from his hands and glanced over it, satisfaction dripping from his smirk.
“Well, well. Welcome to hell, Kim Sungkyu.”
---
The city sprawled beneath him, a sea of twinkling lights stretching into the horizon. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of his hotel room, Nam Woohyun observed the world he had conquered. His empire stood tall—hotels renowned for their exclusivity, catering to the elite who sought luxury and discretion. To the world, he was the golden prince of hospitality, a self-made tycoon who had taken over his family's legacy after tragedy struck.
He turned from the window, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The familiar burn settled deep in his chest, but it did little to thaw the cold emptiness he had long grown accustomed to. His parents had died in a plane crash when he was twenty-one, leaving him with a fractured family business and vultures circling, eager to rip apart what they had built.
He fought, clawed his way to the top, and expanded their holdings beyond what anyone had expected. His father had taught him to be ruthless, and he had taken those lessons to heart. Now, at thirty, he was one of the most powerful men in the industry. He had everything—the wealth, the influence, anyone that pleased his eyes—but none of it filled the void.
Woohyun thrived in control. He dictated every aspect of his life with precision, from business deals to personal indulgences. And when the nights felt too empty, when the ghosts of the past clawed at the edges of his carefully curated world, he sought escape in the only way he knew—through fleeting pleasures.
And no better occasion than now after a hard day of work away from home. Jeonju was nice, but he liked the thrum of life in Seoul better.
He strode across the hotel room and picked up his phone, scrolling through a list of names. His connections ran deep, and among them was a network catering to men like him—men who desired submission, obedience, and no emotional entanglements. It wasn’t about love or connection. More about power. About control. And wherever you were, you could get anyone from them.
With a flick of his fingers, he dialed a familiar number. A smooth, professional voice answered on the other end.
“Mr. Nam,” the man greeted. “How may we serve you tonight?”
Woohyun exhaled slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He had yet to find something, or someone, who could make him feel alive again.
“I want something new.” A pause. Then, the man chuckled lightly.
“We do have a fresh face. Not your usual type, but… intriguing.” Woohyun’s lips curled into a half-smile.
“Send me the details.”
As the call ended, he stared back out at the city, the lights glowing like false promises.
Tonight, he would chase distraction once more.
---
Woohyun arrived at the hotel precisely on time. He was never late for these meetings, punctuality was a virtue in his world, a trait that extended even to his indulgences. Even if it was practically out of town.
The suite was already prepared, pristine and impersonal, much like every other luxury space he occupied. He stepped inside, unbuttoning his coat and tossing it onto the back of a chair before making his way to the minibar. He poured himself a drink, the smooth amber liquid swirling in his glass as he turned to observe the room.
His guest was already there, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, back straight and hands clasped together as if to steady himself. Woohyun took a slow sip, studying him.
New.
He had been with enough workers to recognize the signs immediately. It wasn’t the forced reluctance or feigned nervousness that some played up for effect. No, this was genuine. The stiffness of his posture, the way his fingers curled slightly as if bracing for something, the flickering of his eyes as they took in the room but never settled-all of it told Woohyun that this one was freshly recruited.
His agency had a reputation for strict selection. Workers here weren’t coerced, but that didn’t mean desperation didn’t lead them through those doors. He wondered what had driven this one to sign the contract.
Woohyun placed his drink down and approached the minibar again, this time pouring a second glass.
“Drink?” he offered, his voice calm, unreadable.
The other hesitated before nodding, stepping closer to take it from his hand. Their fingers brushed, ice-cold against warmth. Woohyun filed that detail away.
“You can relax,” Woohyun said, watching him over the rim of his glass. “No one’s in a hurry.”
A small exhale, barely audible. Then, finally, the other lifted his drink to his lips.
Woohyun took in his features properly now. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t be the type Woohyun usually gravitated toward—too tense, too guarded. But there was something about him. Not classically beautiful, but striking in a way that lingered. His eyes, especially. Dark and deep, hiding something beneath the surface. A quiet strength. And Woohyun could see the young lines of his features.
"And your name?" he asked casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
The other hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "I'd rather not disclose it."
His voice was steady, but Woohyun caught the underlying tension in it. Woohyun merely shrugged, unfazed.
"Suit yourself." Names didn’t matter to him anyway.
He observed his partner intently, the steady rhythm of his drink as he took slow sips matching the quiet tension in the room.
He was a man who had long mastered the art of control, cold and composed on the outside, but never truly cruel. He understood the power he wielded—he could have anything he desired from his partners, anything at all—but he wasn’t interested in inflicting harm. His needs ran deeper than that, driven by a hunger for pleasure and intimacy, not pain. His contact had mentioned how many workers were eager to have the chance to be with him again, as he wasn't prone to be cruel to his partners unlike others.
But as Woohyun's eyes lingered on his current partner, a different kind of realization settled over him. This one, though new, clearly knew the cruelty that some clients could possess, and he braced himself for what might come.
Still, there was something else about him that caught Woohyun's attention. The longer he watched him, the more he found himself drawn in, intrigued, and yes, captivated. Woohyun couldn’t help but wonder about the layers beneath the surface—what experiences had shaped him, what had made him this way? It was that curiosity, that allure, that began to stir something deeper within Woohyun, something he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.
Woohyun approached the figure, who tensed seeing him closing in. He reached out, taking the drink from the other’s hand and setting it on the nightstand with a soft clink. The figure stiffened, eyes locked on Woohyun, waiting for his next move.
Woohyun leaned in, kissing him—tentative at first, a light brush, then deeper, pressing closer with intent. The other stayed tense under his arms, body rigid. Woohyun pulled back, shifting to kiss his neck, a slow trail to ease him in, guiding him toward the bed with a gentle nudge.
“Relax,” Woohyun murmured against his skin, voice low.
He kept going, hands tugging off the other’s sweater bit by bit. The figure lifted slightly, letting it go, and Woohyun shed his own shirt, hovering above as he worked their jeans off, piece by piece.
The hotel room was dim, the lamp’s faint glow spilling across the bed where Woohyun hovered, shirtless, his breath quickening. The other lay beneath him, stripped to his boxers, chest rising in sharp, uneven bursts. Woohyun saw the tension etched in his frame: lean muscle, dark hair sticking to a damp forehead, eyes wide and guarded, tracking Woohyun’s every move. He was stiff, waiting for the night to turn rough, and Woohyun felt the urge to push, to take—but something in those eyes held him back, just enough.
He knelt between the other’s legs, hands resting on his thighs, warm and taut under his palms. Woohyun could be harsh—had been, with others who took it—but the stiffness here, the braced silence, made him pause.
Still, the heat in his gut flared, and he slid his hands up, hooking into the boxers’ waistband, tugging them down with a firm pull. The fabric rasped, sliding free, and Woohyun tossed it aside, the other’s breath catching sharply as he lay bare, flushed, exposed.
“Easy,” Woohyun said, voice low, a trace of care he didn’t fully mean. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table, flipping the cap with a click, and squeezed it onto his fingers, the gel slick and cold. He rubbed it briefly, warming it, then shifted closer, one hand nudging the other’s legs apart. The muscle tensed, resisting, but Woohyun pressed on, kissing his hip—a quick, distracting brush—as his fingers found their mark, circling slowly, teasing the tight entrance with a slick touch.
The other inhaled sharply, hands gripping the sheets, and Woohyun pushed in—one finger, slow but steady, the heat clamping tight around him. A soft, broken sound slipped out—breathless—and Woohyun paused, letting him adjust, his own pulse spiking at the feel.
The tightness hit him hard, a grip he hadn’t expected. The other wasn’t new to this entirely, not with the agency’s stakes, but this act felt raw, unpracticed, and it showed in the way he shifted, stiff and unsure.
“Breathe,” Woohyun said, kissing his stomach, a brief sooth as he moved deeper, curling his finger. The other moaned—a fractured, airy gasp—and his hands darted up, clinging to Woohyun’s arms, fingers digging in with a shaky grip. Woohyun glanced up, catching the flush on his face, lips parted, eyes half-shut but flickering with hesitation, not fully lost to it.
“Good?” Woohyun asked, voice rough, testing.
“Yeah,” he rasped, a reluctant murmur, and Woohyun slid his finger out, then back, setting a slow rhythm.
He added a second, stretching with care, the lube easing the way, but the tightness fought him, a hot clench that stoked his need. Another whimper broke free—soft and unsure—and Woohyun’s restraint wavered, the feel too good, too tempting. He scissored his fingers, pushing deeper, and the other’s hips twitched, his grip on Woohyun’s arms tightening.
“Still there?” Woohyun said, voice low.
The other nodded, breathless, clinging harder, and Woohyun worked him open, minutes blurring as the stiffness softened, harsh breaths spilling out.
Woohyun pulled free, the other gasping faintly, and tore a condom before putting it on, his erection throbbing with want. He grabbed the lube again and slicked back the other.
He lined up, pressing against the stretched entrance, and said, “Tell me if it’s too much,” his voice tight, a nod to caution he half-ignored.
The other nodded hesitantly, eyes wide, and Woohyun thrust in—slow at first, the heat and tightness swallowing him, stealing his breath. A loud, broken gasp tore from the other’s throat, his hands gripping Woohyun’s arms fiercer, nails biting skin, and Woohyun groaned.
“Fuck,” pausing halfway, his control fraying. It was so tight.
The feel was overwhelming—hot, constricting, a grip that begged him to take more—and Woohyun’s restraint slipped, the other’s stiffness no match for how good he felt. He pushed deeper, harsher now, the consideration fading as need took over. The other gasped, a shaky, breathless sound, his body tensing beneath, but Woohyun didn’t stop, kissing his neck—a rough press, teeth grazing—as he set a rhythm, firm and unrelenting.
Woohyun felt the other all tense beneath him, and he thrusted harder, the bed creaking under them. The other moaned—soft, broken, his hands clinging to Woohyun’s shoulders now. Woohyun could see it—the inexperience, the way he hesitated even as his body responded, tight and hot around him, driving Woohyun wild.
He angled his hips, thrusting deep, and the other cried out—a sharp, breathless moan, his back arching, pleasure forced through his tension.
“Like that?” Woohyun growled, sweat slicking his brow, his thrusts growing rougher, less careful, the tightness too good to resist. The other nodded, whimpers spilling here and there, and Woohyun leaned down, kissing his chest, his collarbone, tasting sweat as he chased his own edge, taking more than giving now.
The other tensed, a sudden clench that pulled a curse from Woohyun and he came, shuddering, his release spilling hot between them, a chocked sound breaking free, hesitant even in climax.
Woohyun thrust harder, the tightness tipping him over, a low groan as he spilled inside his condom harsh and fast, collapsing beside him, chest heaving.
They lay there, the other’s hands still on Woohyun’s arms, grip softening, his moans fading to quiet, shaky breaths. Woohyun turned, catching those eyes—guarded, uncertain, pleasure taken but not fully owned.
The hotel room lay steeped in dimness, the lamp’s faint glow flickering across the tangled sheets where Woohyun sprawled, his chest still heaving from the rush. The air hung thick with the musk of sweat and sex, the faint tang of whiskey lingering from their earlier drinks.
The other's hands slipped to the mattress with a soft thud. His dark hair clung to his damp forehead, his lean frame glistening with a sheen of exertion, and his eyes darted away, avoiding Woohyun’s gaze.
Woohyun shifted, propping himself on an elbow, his own pulse slowing but his body still thrumming with the aftershocks.
“That was too fast,” he remarked, his voice low and rough, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
He hadn’t meant it as a jab, just an observation—the heat had spiraled out of control, everything driving him over the edge quicker than he’d planned.
The other didn’t respond, his head turning further, cheek pressing into the pillow, a flush creeping up his neck that wasn’t just from the act.
Woohyun pulled out then, slow and deliberate, the slick sound breaking the quiet as he withdrew. The sight of the other all spent hit Woohyun like a spark—raw, visceral, stirring something deep in his gut. He’d just finished, the release still buzzing through him, but that image—the other’s vulnerability, the evidence of what he’d taken—ignited a fresh wave of want, unexpected and insistent. His breath hitched, eyes narrowing as he watched, the heat coiling tight again.
---
Woohyun woke up feeling satisfied for once. But when he opened his eyes, the other side of the bed was empty.
Light spilled through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the sheets that still held faint traces of heat. Woohyun let out a quiet sigh, a tinge of disappointment settling in his chest. He had hoped to see his mysterious partner still there in the morning.
Last night had been... different. It hadn’t felt like just another transaction. The other hadn’t tried to entice him with rehearsed touches or eager performances like the others did. He hadn’t attempted to seduce or impress him. He had simply been there, waiting—waiting for Woohyun to do his worst.
For some clients, that lack of effort would have been a turnoff. But for Woohyun, it had made the encounter feel more real, less like a business arrangement and more like a fleeting one-night stand.
What the hell was he thinking now?
Still, he couldn’t deny it—it had been a long time since he had felt this kind of satisfaction. Not just the physical release, but something deeper.
For once, he didn’t feel hollow. He didn’t feel like an empty shell. He felt human.
---
Sungkyu had scrubbed himself raw.
No matter how hard he tried, the scalding water pouring over his skin couldn’t cleanse the filth he felt inside.
He had really done it. He had really become a… a whore.
His body ached, the soreness a reminder of the long night. But it hadn’t been as bad as he had imagined. His client had been… gentler than expected. He hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t treated him like some disposable toy. Still, Sungkyu knew he wouldn’t always be that lucky.
Could he really do this again?
His phone pinged with a notification. When he checked it, his breath hitched. His account had been credited. His eyes widened at the amount. It was more than he had ever expected.
A second message followed. This one from Key.
Key: 'Congratulations on your first paycheck. The client was quite satisfied, so he added a little bonus.'
Sungkyu stared at the screen, then slowly set the phone down. His hands trembled as he buried his face in them.
Satisfied, huh? As if there had been anything special about last night. Two rounds and sleep. That was it.
But he wasn’t in a position to complain. He couldn’t afford to feel sorry for himself.
Not when his brother’s life was on the line.
---
With the money he had received, Sungkyu immediately paid off part of the hospital bills. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but it was something, it was a start. If he… worked diligently, he could at least cover half the debt within a few months.
But diligence in this line of work meant a client almost every day.
And that—he wasn’t sure he had the strength for.
Key had explained the agency’s policy: every worker was assigned a client at most every two days. It allowed them time to recover, to be at their best again. To be on top of their game.
Sungkyu felt sick.
The thought of selling himself over and over made his stomach churn, but what choice did he have?
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed Myungsoo watching him. His younger brother had been quiet, but when Sungkyu finally looked up, he found him frowning.
"Hyung… is something wrong?" Myungsoo asked, his voice careful, as if he already knew the answer.
Sungkyu stiffened. He forced himself to shake his head, plastering on a weak smile.
"No, of course not. I was just thinking about your treatment." Myungsoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t convinced.
"You’ve been acting weird these past few days. And you look exhausted."
"I’m fine, Myungsoo," Sungkyu cut in quickly. He needed to steer the conversation away from himself. "Actually, the doctors want to try a new treatment for you. They think it could help."
That did the trick. Myungsoo’s suspicion faltered, replaced by wary curiosity.
"A new treatment?" Sungkyu nodded, forcing a more natural expression.
"Yeah. It’s a bit costly, but it might make a difference." Myungsoo frowned.
"Costly? Hyung, are you sure we can afford-"
"Don’t worry about it," Sungkyu interrupted, patting his brother’s hand. "I’ve figured things out."
He didn’t miss the way Myungsoo studied him, still unconvinced.
But for now, he let it go.
---
For the next few days, Sungkyu forced himself into a routine—work, hospital visits, and waiting for the next call.
He didn’t reach out to Key, but he knew it wouldn’t take long before another message arrived. The agency didn’t waste time, and neither could he.
When the notification finally came, he stared at his phone for a long moment before opening it.
Key: 'Got another client for you. Usual place. Tomorrow night.'
There was no room for refusal, no question of whether Sungkyu was ready.
His stomach twisted.
He thought about ignoring it, just turning off his phone and pretending none of this existed.
But then he looked at Myungsoo.
His brother had smiled more today, even tried to sit up longer without wincing. Maybe it was a small change, but it was a sign the new treatment was working. A sign that the money was making a difference.
Sungkyu exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around his phone.
Then he typed back:
Me: Understood.
---