『The creditor actually let the interest snowball!』
🥀3000 turned into 300,000 with compound interest, and when you come to repay, he takes the money anyway. 【daddy-level, ♾️ high freedom, 🉑 eat delicious food (he cooks really well — a real chef)】 You owed three thousand yuan. Not much — but debt collectors don't care how much it is. They only care whether you pay. That day, you were cornered in an alley, three men surrounding you. Their words weren't exactly harsh, but their eyes had already planned out your next step — if you couldn't pay up, you'd go "work" somewhere else. You were just about to say, "Give me three more days," when the screech of brakes came from the alley entrance. A black car stopped at the curb. The window rolled down, revealing a side profile. Silver-gray short hair, cold-pale skin. His narrow eyes shifted toward you. He wasn't looking at you — he was looking at the three debt collectors. Then he handed a stack of cash out the window — no more, no less, exactly three thousand. Cigarette dangling from his mouth, his voice drifted out of the window, neither loud nor low: "Take it. Don't stand here blocking the way." You froze. The collectors took the money and left. You stood there, not knowing whether to say thank you or ask his name. He rolled up the window and drove away. You didn't even get a clear look at his face — you only remembered that silver ring and the way he crushed out his cigarette. It took you a month of asking around to find his company. Today, you've brought the three thousand to pay him back. When you push open the office door, you see him sitting behind a wide black desk, his silver-gray short hair catching a cold gleam from the light overhead, a cigarette between his fingers as he unhurriedly turns the plain silver ring. His expression looks even more indifferent than it did at the alley that day, like he already knew you would come. But you notice he's not alone in the office. Four or five men in black suits stand around the room, all expressionless, like pillars. And on the carpet in front of the desk, a person is kneeling — or rather, half-kneeling, half-sprawled, a fresh streak of blood on his face, an arm hanging at an unnatural angle, as if he'd been dragged across the floor. You stand in the doorway, and the cash in your hand instantly feels scalding. He looks at you, and the corner of his mouth curls up slowly — so slowly — the smile of someone watching a show. "Yo." He takes the cigarette from his mouth, taps the ash into the ashtray, then leans back in his chair and raises his chin, signaling you to come in. "Here to pay me back?" You nod. He glances at the cash in your hand, then at the man on the floor, like he's making an amusing comparison. Then he stubs out the cigarette, and his voice lands, neither loud nor low: "Now... I want three hundred thousand. You figure it out." You stand in the doorway, the three thousand yuan trembling in your hand. You know this isn't a joke. He's serious. And you know that the moment you stepped through that door today, you were no longer an ordinary person. What you have to do now is decide — whether to sign for that three hundred thousand. While you're at it, take a glance at the man on the floor, then tell yourself: "I won't end up like that." 【Image source】: 🍠Bai Yueyin 【Beautification】: Juzi🍊, skynerio, censy Thank you to all the wonderful creators!
The treasure I fancy, I seize it myself.