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# Chapter 30: The Price of a Deal
Kang Riyu couldn’t find the words. His fingers moved subtly across the table—a piano-like motion, pressing on something invisible. Watching his hands, Seo-ah understood. He was either preparing to lie or summoning the courage to tell the truth.
“My father will try to control me through you. It’s the most efficient method.”
Seo-ah’s face went pale. The café lighting was too bright—like an operating room. Everything exposed. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.
“Then… what happens to me?”
“That’s for me to decide. Not you.”
Kang Riyu’s voice sharpened for the first time. This wasn’t calm. This was the voice of someone making a decision. Seo-ah felt her breathing become shallow—like being trapped underwater. Like when her mother was in the water and she’d held her breath at the surface, waiting.
“You need protection. And I’m the only one who can give it to you. Legally, politically, personally.”
“And the price?”
Seo-ah asked her first real question. Kang Riyu’s eyes flickered—as if encountering a variable he hadn’t planned for.
“You have to listen to me. Completely. Without doubt. And I’ll present you to my father, and he’ll eventually accept you. Because you matter to me. And anything that matters to me becomes important to him too.”
“Is that… love?”
Her voice was barely audible, swallowed by the café’s background music. Kang Riyu reached across the table and touched her fingers. They were warm. Still warm.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that I can protect you.”
“And Dohyun?”
“Your brother. I’ll pay for his academy. All the way through university. You don’t have to worry. Just… you need to stay by my side.”
As Seo-ah heard these words, she understood exactly what she was losing. The contract still unsigned, but a deeper agreement was being forged in this moment. A contract with Kang Riyu. Unwritten, but far more binding. Because it was made of something stronger than paper—it was made of emotion.
“Okay.”
She spoke the word, her own voice foreign to her.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Kang Riyu took her hand. His fingers counted hers. One, two, three, four, five. He counted carefully, as if verifying she wouldn’t disappear.
They left the café at 9:15 PM. Kang Riyu walked her to the entrance of Gangnam Station. The sky above was black. Seoul’s night sky was always black. No stars. Buildings had stolen them all.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“The convenience store.”
“Until what time?”
“5 AM.”
“And after that?”
Seo-ah didn’t answer. After that came home for an hour of sleep, then work again or seeing Kang Riyu or helping Dohyun with homework or writing music—her life was always fragmented like this.
“Let’s meet tomorrow evening. Same time. Until then, don’t see anyone. Especially not friends like Haneul.”
“Why?”
“To protect you. My father will be watching you. He’ll pressure the people around you too. The best approach is keeping your surroundings clean.”
Seo-ah felt unease. Her father watching her? It sounded like she was a criminal. But there was no concern in Kang Riyu’s voice. Just matter-of-fact explanation.
“I understand.”
She headed toward the subway entrance. Kang Riyu watched her back for a long time, as if seeing her gradually disappear with each step down the stairs.
On the subway back to the convenience store, Seo-ah pulled out her phone. Her last message to Haneul was sent at 3:47 PM: “Going to Gangnam Station.” Nothing since. What was Haneul doing now? At the tattoo shop? Or angry, thinking of her?
She opened the messages. A green dot next to Haneul’s name. Online. Still awake. Seo-ah’s fingers moved. She started typing.
“Haneul—”
Delete.
“Hey—”
Delete.
“I’m sorry—”
Delete again. She sent nothing. Because she didn’t know what to say. What she’d promised to Kang Riyu, what it meant, how to explain it to Haneul. Seo-ah set down her phone and looked out the window. The subway passed through darkness.
She got off at Hapjeong Station at 10:05 PM. Five minutes to the convenience store. She walked quickly. Her shoes made sounds on the pavement. Walking alone through the night. Seoul’s nights were always solitary. Crowds of people, but everyone trapped in their own darkness.
Before entering the store, Seo-ah caught her reflection in the glass beside the automatic door. Black padding, black pants, black shoes. Like a ghost. But ghosts don’t have eyes this hot. Seo-ah’s eyes were burning.
Jongho was at the register. He smiled when he saw her.
“Hey, welcome back. Your face is red.”
“Maybe the wind blew hard.”
“Another lie. You don’t blink when you lie.”
Seo-ah put on her apron. Gray apron. GS25 logo. Looking at that logo, she wondered what she was. A convenience store employee. A musician. A sister. Seo-ah. And now—Kang Riyu’s possession.
From 10:15 PM to 5 AM. Seven hours and forty-five minutes. There was much for Seo-ah to do. Customer service, stocking shelves, ringing registers, mopping floors, checking refrigerators. And while doing all of it, she would think about what she’d promised, what it meant, and when it might end.
Around 11:30 PM, a man in a suit entered the store. The moment Seo-ah saw him, her body went rigid. His face resembled Kang Riyu’s. Same bone structure. Same eye shape. But his eyes were different. Kang Riyu’s eyes wanted something. This man’s eyes owned something.
The man picked up a coffee. Premium Americano. The most expensive one. He walked to the counter. When Seo-ah reached to ring him up, he spoke.
“You’re Seo-ah, right?”
Her hands froze. His voice was different from Kang Riyu’s. Lower. Deeper. More dangerous.
“Yes.”
She answered quietly.
“My son told me a lot about you. That you’re talented at music.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s just… my son has a little problem. When he sees something good, he wants to possess it. I think you might be one of those good things.”
Seo-ah couldn’t speak. She knew who this was. Kang Min-jun. CEO of JYA. Kang Riyu’s father. The person holding her fate in his hands.
“But I can use you or discard you. That depends on how you behave. If you treat my son well, that’s good. If you interfere with him, that’ll be bad. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then work hard.”
Kang Min-jun finished paying and left. Seo-ah watched his retreating figure. Gray suit. Expensive shoes. Perfect hair. And beneath all of it—absolute power.
Jongho approached her.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You look terrible. Who was that guy?”
“Just… a customer.”
“That’s a lie. You don’t blink when you lie.”
Jongho was right. Seo-ah didn’t blink. Instead, her hands moved. She touched the register, organized products, checked the refrigerator. Her hands kept moving. They couldn’t stop. Because if they stopped, she’d have to think about what she’d done.
At 3:45 AM, Seo-ah entered the break room. A short rest. Fifteen minutes. She lay on the sofa. Looked at the ceiling. A fluorescent light. White. Infinite brightness. Her eyes couldn’t close.
Her phone rang. A text message. From Haneul.
“Hey. Did you see? That Kang Riyu’s dad showed up at the convenience store in our neighborhood. What’s going on?”
Seo-ah read the message. Then read it again. Haneul had noticed. That Kang Min-jun was watching her. Which meant Kang Riyu wasn’t lying.
Seo-ah deleted the message. Didn’t reply. Instead, she kept staring at the ceiling. Thinking.
What am I right now?
Have I made a contract? Or have I been put in prison?
Both?
At 5 AM, Seo-ah took off her apron. The GS25 logo was pressed into the gray fabric. She stared at it. Once, twice, three times. As if trying to keep it from becoming her face.
Outside was still dark. Dawn. Seoul’s dawn was quiet. Everyone sleeping. In that time, Seo-ah walked alone through the streets. Heading home. Through Hapjeong’s narrow alleys. In those alleys, she thought she saw someone. Someone following her. But she didn’t turn around. Because turning around terrified her—and because she already knew.
That Kang Riyu was watching her.
That Kang Min-jun was watching her.
And that she now belonged to someone.
Two days later, before moving to Chapter 31:
Seo-ah met Kang Riyu every evening. Same café. Same table. Different conversations. Kang Riyu touched her hand and told her she’d made the right choice. Seo-ah nodded. But every night, she looked at her own hands. Checking if they were really hers.
Haneul stopped texting. Seo-ah understood everything that silence meant.
Dohyun registered at a new academy. A better one. The one Kang Riyu arranged. As if proving Seo-ah’s choice was right.
And Kang Min-jun kept watching. Appearing at the convenience store. Visible from the café across the street. His eyes on Seo-ah were always the same. Evaluating eyes. Possessing eyes.
Now Seo-ah understood.
She was not a musician.
She was a singing machine.
And that machine now had two owners.