[7 Years Later]
"Jack Conrad… how long are you gonna keep running from your debt, huh?!"
A man's voice, thick with mockery, cut through the dimly lit alleyway... before the sharp crack of a fist meeting flesh followed—
"Aagh—!"
The young man's eyes widened, his body staggering in pain as the blow struck his abdomen. He barely managed to stay on his feet... before another punch to the face sent him crashing against the cold, damp concrete!
Laughter echoed around him—low, taunting chuckles from the suited men surrounding him—
Debt collectors.
No... nothing so... 'formal.'
They were more like thugs in suits, using the guise of "collecting payments" as an excuse to beat down those too weak to fight back...
And their beatdown on him wasn't over—
"Come on—pay up, dumbass!"
Jack quickly curled in on himself, hands instinctively trying to shield his head as the kicks rained down on him.
Sharp pain exploded through his ribs, his stomach, his arms—everywhere. He couldn't even let out a single yelp before another wave of agony shot through him—!
They weren't just making him pay, no...
They were making him suffer.
"Pathetic," the leader of the debt collectors sneered, stepping forward.
His ugly mug twisted into a grin—the kind that promised nothing but misery.
Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Jack's messy black hair and yanked his head up.
"A-agh—!" Jack grunted, a raw sound tearing from his throat as pain flared across his scalp.
"Look at you," the man spat, tightening his grip until their eyes met. "How long has it been, huh? A few weeks? Every damn day, your debt's interest gets higher, and you don't even bother to pay a cent."
Jack's breath hitched as the man yanked his head to the side, then let go with a rough shove—
Jack dropped like a ragdoll, collapsing onto his hands and knees.
Coughing violently, the metallic taste of blood spread across his tongue.
"Hah. Well, look at that—a useless, pathetic peasant."
And immediately, a foot slammed into his gut—!
"Aagh—!!!"
—sending him sprawling onto his side! A cruel chorus of laughter followed soon after...
Jack gasped for breath, nearly choking on the blood pooling in his mouth, before curling in on himself—trying to protect whatever part of his body hadn't yet been broken by these debt collectors...
However, the pain was unbearable... and he could barely keep his consciousness, his suffering seeming to elicit further amusement from them...
Jack Conrad...
He wanted to resist these debt collectors' torture...
But what could he do...?
Nothing.
He could do... nothing.
No, that wasn't true. He tried to run.
He knew taking that loan had been a mistake—that the interest rates were beyond absurd, designed to drag those desperate and idiotic deeper into an abyss they'd never climb out of...
And no matter how much he hated to admit it, he was one of those desperate idiots.
So... he'd ran away.
He'd ran because he refused to be just another fool crushed under their boot.
But they'd caught him—dragged him back.
And now... they were making an example out of him.
Jack tried to get up once more, hands pressing against the rough concrete, fighting back the pain... but his eyes soon met the leader of the thugs crouching down near him again...
But this time, he reached into Jack's pocket—!
"W-what...?!"
Jack barely managed to lift his head as he felt his wallet being pulled away. "H-hey...! G-Give it... back—! Aagh—!"
But a sharp kick to his ribs tore the words from his lungs! Courtesy of the same man who was now holding his wallet like a prized trophy.
"Stay down, dumbass," the leader spat, ignoring Jack's pained groans on the ground.
He then flipped open the thin, worn-out wallet with a smirk, his eyes scanning its contents... before he let out a laugh.
"Oh? What's this?" He pulled out the contents of the wallet—a single hundred-dollar bill and a crumpled one-dollar bill. "So you do have some money, after all."
Jack could only grit his teeth in helpless frustration as the leader waved the two bills in front of him like a fan.
"But this amount?" The leader flicked the bills against Jack's face, his grin stretching wider with amusement. "This ain't even one percent of what you owe us."
Then, standing up from his crouch, he tucked the hundred into his own pocket, maintaining that same mocking grin as he loomed over Jack's battered form.
"But hey, I'll be nice," he sneered, rolling the already crumpled one-dollar bill between his fingers before carelessly tossing it to the ground. "I'll leave you with something."
The wallet followed soon after, landing with a dull smack against the concrete beside the discarded bill.
Jack could only stare at them… defeated.
"And listen up, Conrad," the leader called, his voice dropping into something colder, sharper. "Tomorrow. You pay it all. Every last cent."
"H-huh—?!"
Jack's breath hitched. His eyes managed to lift just enough to see the sneer on the debt collectors' leader.
'Tomorrow...?'
He barely had anything to his name. There was no way he could—
"I don't care how," the leader continued. "Find it. Beg for it. Steal it."
His smirk widened as he stared at the despair-filled expression etched on Jack's face.
"Or don't. I wouldn't mind sending you off to the organ farm... or maybe the slave market. You've got a decent face—some rich freak might pay a fortune for you."
The leader laughed at his own joke, followed by his other cronies, as they turned to leave, their voices and laughter fading into the distance...
Leaving behind the young man lying there... barely moving.
Beaten. Bloodied. Broken.
He could still hear their laughter—still feel the ache of every blow they'd inflicted upon him.
His eyes landed on the wallet in front of him... and the single, crumpled dollar bill lying beside it.
Humiliation crept into him, crawling beneath his skin...
But that wasn't all—he could feel the dread slowly consuming him.
'Tomorrow...'
He had until tomorrow...
Or he was dead.