With tears glistening in her eyes, Ji-Woo wandered alone down the deserted streets.
The dim streetlights cast a ghostly glow over everything, illuminating the empty sidewalks and flickering shadows.
People hurried past—late-shift workers, students returning from detention, and others lost in their own worlds—each absorbed in their own stories.
She finally sat down at the bus stop, her body trembling slightly as she waited for her bus.
Her face was blank, emotionless, as if she had shut down inside.
The cruel words echoed in her mind like a haunting melody—"She's mannerless.""She's mad like her mother.""Who invited her?""Poor girl, her mother didn't teach her good behavior."
Each insult clung to her, sticky and suffocating, like her childhood favorite song she couldn't shake.
The words echoed relentlessly, pounding in her chest, stirring a storm of pain and shame she couldn't escape.
Her fingers instinctively curled around herself, hugging her trembling frame tightly.
The sleeveless dress she wore suddenly felt too thin, too fragile against the cold wind that seemed to cut right through her skin.
She wanted to disappear, to hide from the harshness of the world, from the judgment that weighed heavily on her shoulders.
All she could do was sit there, hugging herself, wishing she could melt into the shadows, wishing the hurtful words would vanish into the night.
Just as the cold wind pierced through her thin dress, Ji-Woo suddenly felt something drape over her shoulders.
She looked up slowly, and her eyes widened in surprise. It was him—her best friend, Eun-Woo—the one who always seemed to understand her without saying a word.
"Eun-Woo..." she whispered softly, her voice trembling.
He smiled gently, his tousled brown hair falling over his forehead, eyes warm and kind.
His white T-shirt and jeans looked simple but perfect, and his genuine smile made her heart ache—hopeful and comforted all at once. Eun-Woo sat beside her, his hand reaching out to pat her head softly.
"What's wrong, Ji-Woo?" he asked softly, concern evident in his voice. "Why are you here looking wrecked?"
She hesitated for a moment, then looked at him, her gaze flickering with vulnerability.
Her fingers clenched the jacket tighter, her knuckles turning white as she held it close, as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
"It's just that... I've been feeling down lately," she admitted quietly.
"Like I'm invisible, unappreciated... like I don't matter." Her voice cracked slightly. "I feel useless."
Eun-Woo shook his head gently, his expression tender.
He reached out and placed his hand on her head, leaning in just a little closer, his face inches from hers.
"You're not useless," he said softly, his voice reassuring. "You were not born to be used or to be invisible. You're stronger than you realize, Ji-Woo. You have a light inside you that no one can take away."
For the first time, Ji-Woo felt a flicker of warmth, a flicker of hope. She managed a small smile, feeling comforted by his words, by his presence.
He was her anchor—her best friend who understood her more than anyone else ever could.
"Thank you so much, Eun-Woo," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
He nudged her forehead playfully, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Don't thank me, Queen. It makes me feel flustered," he said dramatically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Ji-Woo giggled softly, the sound easing some of the pain inside her.
For a moment, she forgot about the hurt, the words, and the cold night—just basking in the comfort of her best friend's kindness.
---
Ji-Woo sat on her bed, wearing a simple white hoodie and blue jeans, a grey face cap pulled low over her head.
In her hand, she clutched a picture, her eyes fixed on it. She glanced at the photo, her expression softening.
At first glance, it seemed to be her—same features, same lips, gentle eyes that seemed to hold a quiet sadness.
But as she looked closer, something was off. Her forehead was open, revealing a smooth, unblemished skin where a birthmark should have been.
It wasn't her; it was someone else—her twin, perhaps? The thought lingered in her mind, stirring a mixture of curiosity and longing.
A gentle smile touched Ji-Woo's lips.
Carefully, she tucked the picture inside her hoodie's pocket, as if safeguarding a precious secret. She took a deep breath, gathering her resolve.
With a last, lingering glance around her room, she quietly slipped out of the grand mansion.
The doors closed softly behind her as she stepped into the night, walking away from everything she knew, her heart heavy but determined to find her own path.
----
A few weeks had passed since Ji-Woo went missing. Mrs. Kim had been searching everywhere, her heart heavy with worry and guilt. She replayed that night in her mind, haunted by the thought that she hadn't cared enough to check on her daughter. Every corner, every place Ji-Woo could have gone—nothing. She felt a deep sense of responsibility weighing her down.
One evening, she was sitting on her bed, her legs crossed, eyes vacant, lost in her thoughts. Her phone buzzed suddenly, breaking the silence. She picked it up slowly, and instead of disappointment, her face lit up with a bright smile.
"I'm coming. I'm on my way!" she said quickly, her voice filled with relief and determination.
Without hesitation, she threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and swiftly tied her hair back. She ordered the driver to head to the 'City Hospital' immediately.
The sun was shining brightly as she pulled up in front of the hospital, the light reflecting off her car.
Her heart pounded with a mixture of hope and anxiety, ready to find her daughter once and for all.
Mrs. Kim bolted inside the hospital, her breath coming in heavy gasps. Her eyes flickered anxiously from side to side until they settled on her daughter.
There, across the room, Ji-Woo was standing with her head bowed. Her hair had grown longer, cascading down her back.
She looked pale, fragile, and her face bore fresh injuries—bandaged with a white cloth wrapped around her head, and bruises marked her cheeks.
Slowly, Ji-Woo lifted her gaze. As she looked up, Mrs. Kim's breath hitched. Her eyes widened with shock and relief.
She took a step back, clutching her chest as if trying to hold her heart in place.
"Ji… Ji-Woo," she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion. Without hesitation, she rushed forward and threw her arms around her daughter, holding her tightly as tears streamed down her face.