Lee Su-chang, Nabin’s stepfather, was just another moth hurling itself into the fire, uncaring if he died. But the debt that should’ve been his burden ended up falling squarely on Nabin’s shoulders.
After Lee Su-chang borrowed thirty million won from Black Finance and vanished, Kim Minsu didn’t bother looking for him. Instead, he set a noose around Nabin. It wasn’t uncommon for Black Finance to hold a debtor’s family jointly responsible if the debtor died—but ignoring the debtor altogether and going after the family from the start? That was an exception.
Nabin’s mother was already severely addicted to drugs, barely lucid for even an hour a day. The day Kim Minsu showed up, Nabin had a bad feeling and tried to run away with his mom, just like his stepfather had. But she wasn’t in any condition to flee.
Nabin was only fifteen years old.
With no way to escape, he tried to reach out to government agencies for help, hoping to evade Black Finance’s eyes. His mother used to work at the Center, so he thought he might get help from her former coworkers.
But before he could even try, Kim Minsu grabbed him by the back of the neck.
Kim Minsu had a knack for sniffing out weak spots—and he spotted Nabin’s right away.
Right in front of Nabin, Kim Minsu held his mother’s head in front of the jaws of a hunting dog he had raised on raw meat. It had even been fed human blood on occasion, like a delicacy. If Kim Minsu gave the word, it would rip through a person’s skull or neck with its razor-sharp teeth without hesitation.
Blood was already trickling down her head from a wound Kim Minsu had inflicted. The dog, intoxicated by the familiar scent, drooled heavily and growled like it was ready to bite her skull clean off.
Faced with the brutal sight, Nabin crumpled to the floor.
He got down on his knees and begged—hands scraped raw on the floor—for Kim Minsu to spare his mother’s life.
Kim Minsu threatened that if Nabin didn’t repay the debt in Lee Su-chang’s stead, his mother would be the dog’s next meal. It was as if a collar had been fastened around Nabin’s neck, one he could never remove on his own.
In the end, Nabin had to quit school altogether. His days were spent working nonstop part-time jobs just to chip away at the ever-growing snowball of loan interest.
But there was only so much a fifteen-year-old could earn.
Even with less sleep, even cutting back as much as possible on food, all he could manage was barely scraping together enough to pay the monthly interest. And if the rate increased next year, he’d be unable to even keep up with that.
The world was anything but kind to Nabin.
There were adults everywhere eager to exploit his desperation and naivety for their own gain.
From Kim Minsu himself, to the convenience store owner who worked him to the bone without ever paying him properly.
“Come here, my sweet Nabin.”
“……”
Every time Nabin blinked his trembling eyelids, crystal-clear tears slid down his dry cheeks. His lips, bitten to stifle his sobs, were cracked and dotted with blood.
Kim Minsu took the envelope Nabin handed over, tossed it carelessly onto the table, and gestured toward him. As if the money Nabin had worked so hard to earn meant nothing to him—his eyes never even flicked to it. They stayed locked on Nabin.
Nabin was terrified when the man got violent. But the way he was looking at him now? That scared him even more. So much so, he felt like leaping out the nearest window just to escape.
There was a strange heat flickering in Kim Minsu’s gaze. A dangerous, ominous heat that looked ready to swallow Nabin whole.
Nabin instinctively knew—no real adult should ever look at him that way.
But he had no power to refuse the man’s command.
So, powerless, he took a step toward him.
Kim Minsu raised his rough hand and gently wiped away the tears clinging to the corners of Nabin’s red-rimmed eyes. The sight of Nabin trembling, like he’d been doused in cold water, seemed to carve itself into the man’s chest.
“Nabin.”
“Huu, hic, y-yes, yes…”
Finally, Nabin broke into frightened sobs. And when his tear-streaked face was fully revealed, Kim Minsu’s expression lit up like he was pleased.
His crescent-moon eyes curved even more than usual—he looked genuinely happy.
“Is making money hard?”
His voice was wrapped in sweet, deceptive tenderness, and Nabin gave a faint nod. Calling it hard didn’t even begin to cover it. Each day was sheer torment. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d fallen asleep without fear clutching at his chest.
“Then should Hyung pay off all your debt for you?”
It was deception.
He was the one who had forced that undeserved burden onto Nabin in the first place. Yet he spoke those words without the slightest hint of shame.
And still, the lie was a nearly irresistible temptation.
Whenever Nabin rushed down the street trying to make a few extra coins, his gaze always lingered painfully on one thing in particular.
Other kids his age, walking by in school uniforms, laughing without a care. His large, round eyes would fill with longing. Sometimes, he’d even detour past his old school.
He didn’t really have happy memories of attending school. But somehow, his feet kept returning to that place, like they were clinging to some pathetic hope.
If not for the debt, maybe he could go back. Maybe he could just be a normal teenager again.
Kim Minsu noticed the conflict flickering in Nabin’s eyes and slowly pulled the corners of his lips upward.
Like a fisherman watching a clueless fish swim right into the net.
He said nothing—just waited patiently for Nabin to nod.
“A… no. I-I can… pay it off…”
Like a fish that had slipped halfway into the net only to sense danger and dart away, Nabin shook his head.
Kim Minsu leaned back lazily in his cushioned chair, hiding his disappointment.
“What a shame. Choosing the hard road when there’s such an easy one right in front of you.”
Nabin couldn’t keep looking at him. His gaze fell to the floor, where cigarette butts were scattered like filth. The grid pattern of the dirty tiles stabbed at his chest.
“…All right, go on now, Nabin. Next time, bring the principal, too.”
At Kim Minsu’s words, Nabin hesitated briefly before slipping out of the office. He looked like a fish that had been caught in the fisherman’s hand and then tossed back into the water.
But even if he’d escaped the net, to Kim Minsu, Nabin was no different from a fish already caught. As long as Kim Minsu held his weakness in his hands, there would be no running away.
The one who made sure Nabin never got paid properly was Kim Minsu. It wasn’t difficult—just a few of his men sent out with veiled threats disguised as requests. That was all it took.
It was fascinating, and at the same time irritating, how that scrawny kid kept scraping together money like his life depended on it. Most adults eventually caved under Kim Minsu’s sabotage—offering up their organs and even their lives without resistance. But Nabin, just fifteen years old, somehow managed to slip through the fingers of the dark hand hovering over him.
Even so, the end was in sight. There was only so much a minor could legally earn. Nabin was already operating at his limit. By next year, continuing like this, it would be impossible to keep up with the interest—let alone start chipping away at the principal.
“Hope next year comes quickly.”
Kim Minsu gently stroked the grimy envelope of cash with his fingertips as he gazed, smiling, at the door Nabin had just exited—waiting eagerly for the helpless fish to fall right into his lap.
***
“Haa, huff…”
The moment Nabin stepped out of the office, he dropped to his knees, bracing himself with both hands as he gasped for the breath he’d been holding in. Whenever he was with Kim Minsu, it was like he couldn’t even breathe properly.
From the very first day they met, the noose around Nabin’s neck had only gotten tighter. Drawn taut with the force of a snap, it pressed closer each day, ready to crush his windpipe. That noose alone was enough to shove him right off the edge.
At this rate, he really might take Kim Minsu’s outstretched hand.
He couldn’t.
It might bring temporary relief, but it would never be salvation. The more Nabin came to know the man, the more painfully he understood this truth—even as a child.
But what was he supposed to do…?
Right now, Nabin was juggling five part-time jobs.
Even that was a miracle in itself—there weren’t many places willing to hire a fifteen-year-old clearly lacking any parental support.
Hiring a minor came with complications. Very few were willing to take on the hassle. And it wasn’t like there was a shortage of people looking for part-time work.
The places Nabin worked at now were ones he’d secured only after pounding the pavement and knocking on countless doors. Some bosses were kind. Others, like the convenience store owner, took full advantage of his circumstances, trying to withhold pay.
Still, Nabin never voiced his frustration. He endured it all in silence.
Quitting meant having to find another job, and there was no guarantee the next employer would be any better—or that he’d even find one at all.
He survived on less than three hours of sleep a day. His meals came from expired or discarded items at the convenience store. Even then, it was barely enough to keep up with the interest.
And once this year passed, it would be far worse.
Forget the principal—the interest rate would double.
His debt was already growing faster than he could manage, and if the rate doubled, Nabin wouldn’t stand a chance.
Just as his eyes, fixed on the floor, began to sink into a deep, murky despair…
