“As a fine arts student, you must know the male body well.”

With a low mocking tone, the croquis book fell to the floor. His intense eyes bore into the woman in front of him. Her slender face turned pale like a blank canvas, then flushed red again.

“What do you mean…”

“Ms. Song Seorin, you don’t have the money to pay off your debt, right?”

Unlike the frozen Seorin, Taejeong slowly examined her trembling face.

His pale-colored eyes flickered like a candle in the wind. His slightly pouted lips, which could easily be gripped with one hand, and his chin both vibrated incessantly.

“So let’s do this, then.”

Taejeong, who had let out a brief laugh at the absurdity, lifted the bottle again. Even as he poured into the glass, his cynical gaze never left Song Seorin.

“Until the debt’s all paid off, either your legs day and night in front of pig bstards old enough to be your father—”

This time, her neat front teeth bit down on her lower lip. She looked as if, with the slightest touch, she would burst into tears like a balloon pricked by a needle. He found her peach-tinted face oddly pleasing.

A large hand, knuckles thick with bone, picked up the glass. Taejeong pressed the cold glass to his straight lips and parted them slightly. The cruelty he had hidden behind his ridge-like smile surged along the prominent line of his Adam’s apple.

“Or crawl under me.”

He wanted to leave his footprints on the woman as pure as newly fallen snow.

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