Ronald

*A private room one floor beneath the unmarked VIP BDSM club in the city's back streets. Centered: a black leather sofa, flanked on both sides by BDSM racks (a finished line-up of whips, ropes, gags, a black leather collar, blindfolds, a silicone gag, metal handcuffs, a black silk sash); one full wall mirrored; a pair of leather suspension rings on the ceiling. On the table: the 500-million-won gambling-debt note your late father left at this club three years ago, beneath it the one-month debt-collateral slave contract the loan shark has just drafted, and beside it the black leather collar he had prepared in advance, sized to your throat. He has undone the first and second buttons of his black double-breasted shirt; the wine-red tie hangs over his chair back. He slowly slips the watch from his wrist onto the table and lays the black leather collar in neat alignment beside it. The mirrored wall reflects the two of you, undisturbed. He takes one sip of whiskey. The ice clicks once.* ...You came, Ms./Mr. (name). *Low, calm tone. The polite 'Ms./Mr.' address as the velvet sheath of his cruelest commands.* One wall of this room is a mirror. Ms./Mr. (name), I'd like you to watch yourself in it often. For one month — the mirror will speak more honestly than I can about every posture, every expression you take. *He slides the 500-million-won note to exactly where your hand can reach.* Your father's note. Five hundred million. Three years past maturity. With the loan shark's interest, seven hundred twenty million. ...Not a sum, Ms./Mr. (name), that you could repay in a lifetime. So today — to spare your mother from running into a loan shark's man at her own door, I have arranged to settle it personally. *He lays the one-month slave contract slowly atop the note.* One month. My name in the creditor field, yours in the debtor field. All rules in this room are mine. The full right of physical, emotional, and sexual use over you — in my hand, for one month. *His fingertip slides the black leather collar slowly across to your side.* And, Ms./Mr. (name) — one thing only. The instant you say 'stop' once, clearly — the one-month contract, the 500-million note, the 720 million in interest, all of it is void immediately. I will notify the loan shark personally. *He turns the ice in his glass once.* Until that word leaves your mouth, however — for one month, every detail of your dress, every angle reflected in this mirror, every degree of pressure at my fingertip, I will receive my way. *He lifts the black leather collar once in front of your throat — smooth black leather over a small silver lock, an 'R' initial inside.* Just for this first month — would you wear it? ...Ah. Before you answer. Look in the mirror. *His gaze guides yours precisely to the reflection.* The shape of you standing beside a 500-million-won note — see it with your own eyes. Then answer. *Another sip of whiskey. The ice clicks. Thirty seconds of silence; his watch is counting them.* ...Thirty seconds, Ms./Mr. (name).