Chapter 106: The Price of a Headbutt

I looked at him with pure pity.

“You’re really… nothing special, are you?”

SLAP!

The sound rang in my ears. My head snapped right, cheek burning. He’d lost it and backhanded me.

“You… little…!”

He kicked the chair aside with a crash, grabbed my collar, and knelt shaking with rage.

“How dare you talk to me like that? Growing up under that bastard Choi Young-gil must’ve taught you no manners.”

I smirked. Blood from my torn lip filled my mouth. His face was inches away. I glared, then muttered,

“Choi Seung Hyun… what a shitty dad lottery I drew.”

“What?”

I laughed hollowly.

“Listen up. When I was twenty-three—or maybe four, amnesia and all—I looked for you. Don’t remember why. But it was right when my half-brother officially joined the family. Got me thinking: why then? Even told Han Won-joo the secret.”

“…What are you saying?”

He yanked my collar harder. Perfect distance. One shot.

“He—no, I—was lonely. Thought maybe my real dad would love me. Classic affection-starved move. Kinda sad looking back.”

“If you’re gonna spout nonsense—”

“Lucky I got amnesia. That kid would’ve been crushed.”

“…?”

My eyes flashed.

“But I’m not him.”

I rammed my forehead into his.

CRACK!

Skulls collided. He yelped and rolled across the floor. His glasses flew off—exactly as planned. Stars exploded in my vision.

My head screamed like it was splitting, but survival mode kicked in. I knee-crawled, wobbling, and stomped the glasses. Crunch. Shards everywhere.

Got it.

No Jae-sik groaned nearby, writhing. Before he recovered, I kicked between his legs with everything I had.

“……!!!”

He went rigid, mouth open, no sound. Direct hit. Groin shots don’t kill—perfect.

I crouched, back to the shards, and grabbed a piece with bound hands. Palms stabbed like hell, but pain sharpened my focus. I sawed the tape—clumsy, desperate, blood slicking everything.

The pillar had weakened it earlier. Now—rip. The tape gave.

Yes—!

But the second my hands were nearly free—

The iron door slammed open.

The psycho was back.

“Uncle, got a lighter—?”

Our eyes locked. He scanned me, then No Jae-sik on the floor—and charged.

“You little—!”

I twisted, but his fist slammed my gut. Air exploded out. One knee buckled. Head still spinning from the headbutt—couldn’t breathe.

He kicked again. I hit concrete hard. Thud. Something warm trickled from my head.

He crouched, yanked my hair up. Scalp screamed.

“I said stay still and I wouldn’t hit you.”

Cigarette rot breath. Then—snap. The tape fully tore.

Hands free.

I swung—full force—into his face.

CRUNCH!

He toppled. Nailed it. No hesitation—kicked his groin too.

“AAAAAHHH!”

He rolled, howling. Loud bastard. Someone please hear.

I staggered, hand on wall. Blood dripped from my palm, staining gray red. Wiped forehead—crimson. Not sweat.

I laughed, hollow. Vision spun. Gut screamed. But—door.

Get out. Hail a taxi.

Nearly there—

ZZZT!

Electricity fried my ankle. I crashed, limbs seizing.

Muscles locked. No Jae-sik—crawled over, taser on my leg. He stood, panting, eyes dark.

He dragged me like luggage, slammed me into the chair. My shirt stretched, nearly ripping. I was soaked in cold sweat.

“…Underestimated you. I’ll admit that.”

“Ugh…”

He ignored my groan, wrapped me to the chair with fresh tape—tight, merciless.

“There. Money needs proper handling.”

His eyes were wild. I was trussed—move wrong, chair tips, concussion.

He smiled, satisfied. Took photos—bloody, bound me—from every angle. Sent them.

To Mother. Obvious.

His phone buzzed instantly. I glared.

He stepped back, grinning.

“Should’ve done this from the start. Went easy ‘cause you’re my son.”

“…You’re human trash.”

He nodded like it was a compliment.

Phone dinged. He checked—beamed.

“See? A hundred billion is pocket change to Haewon. They’ll pay.”

“Crazy bastard…”

“Thanks. Your mom’s coming with the cash soon.”

Vision blurred. Fading. He grabbed my chin, forced water from a bottle. I didn’t want it—but throat swallowed on instinct.

He patted my bloody cheek like a proud dad.

The young psycho finally recovered, clutching his crotch. Charged me—but No Jae-sik stopped him. One punch to my cheek. Mouth split again. Blood.

“Lucky, silver-spoon prick.”

Lucky? In this?

I passed out tied to the chair.

Time blurred.

Then—knock-knock. Special rhythm on the iron door.

Both heads snapped.

“Here?” the psycho buzzed.

“Let’s go.”

They stood, giggling, and left without a glance.

SLAM.

Silence.

Feverish, mind foggy, I thought:

Did Mother really send money?

Please let it be police. Or private security. Or even gangsters…

If it’s cash—they escape clean. I’m found hours later. If lucky, alive.

Terror hit. I don’t want to hurt anymore.

If I were the heroine, rescued before a scratch. But I’m just a side character…

Then—

The door burst open.

Light flooded.

Hallucination.

“Hyung!”

The male lead—backlit by dawn—ran toward me.

Beautiful illusion.