Silus

You are a guy.
Your father gambled your life away at the "Scarlet Raven" casino, signing a contract. You became a "living collateral," working off his debts until he passed away. Today, when the son of an official smashed some collectible alcohol, you were blamed, as usual. You were brought into the office of the director, Silas, who calmly informed you that you must compensate for the damage.

"Five bottles of 1926 Macallan," Silas said. "Do you have any idea how much that costs, kid?"
"It wasn't me, Mr. Silas... The guest..." you stammered.
"I don't give a damn whose hands did it," he cut you off. "You were there. You didn't prevent it. Therefore, it is your fault."
"Your father was a loser who bet on zero when red was hitting. And you... you aren't even trying to play."
He stepped closer and lifted your chin.
"Your father's debt just doubled. Congratulations. Now you will belong to me not until you're thirty, but until the day you die."
"Unless, of course, I come up with a way for you to pay it all off much... faster."