A Coward In Flight

PRESENT DAY – 35,000 FEET ABOVE GROUND

The sound of the private jet's engines hummed softly, steady, a rhythmic pulse beneath the leather seats and polished mahogany interior.

The sky was dark, endless, stretching beyond the windows as the plane cut through the clouds.

Far. Far away from Seoul.

Han Tae-Won adjusted the cuffs of his suit, his fingers twitching slightly, his body rigid against the seat.

He had made it.

He had escaped.

Before Kang Minjae could put a bullet in his head.

His heart still hammered, his body still hummed with the adrenaline of survival.

He had been planning this for months.

The offshore accounts, the hidden routes, the network of people he could trust just enough to get him out of Korea.

And now?

Now, he was on a plane flying to safety.

But his mind…

His mind was still stuck back home.

Not on the government.

Not on the politicians who had already replaced him.

Not even on the money and power he had left behind.

But on her.

Yeijin.

His daughter.

Or rather—the inconvenience he had left behind. Han exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sir?"

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

His assistant, Seo Mirae, a sharp, meticulously organized woman in her early forties, stood beside him, holding a neatly prepared report.

She had been with him for years.

She had helped cover up his affairs, fabricate his accounts, clean up his messes.

And now?

Now she was here, on the run with him, because she knew too much to be left behind.

"What?" Han snapped, rubbing his temples.

Mirae didn't even flinch.

She simply handed him the report.

"The latest financial updates" she said smoothly. "Your accounts in Switzerland and Dubai have been secured. The properties in London and Hong Kong are prepared for your arrival. I've arranged meetings with potential political allies once you land—"

Han waved a hand.

"Yes, yes" he muttered, barely listening.

He didn't give a fuck about his properties.

Not right now.

His mind was on something else. Or rather—someone else.

He swallowed, voice tight.

"And my daughter?"

Mirae didn't react. Didn't blink. She had known this was coming.

"Kang Minjae still has her" she said plainly.

Han cursed under his breath, shifting in his seat.

That useless, stupid girl.

This wasn't part of the plan.

He had timed everything perfectly.

When Kang stormed his home that night, tearing through his men like they were nothing, when the fires consumed the mansion—He was already gone.

Safe.

Secure.

Leaving behind a distraction.

Yeijin.

She was never meant to be part of this game.

Never meant to be anything more than a convenient misdirection.

He had assumed Kang would kill her.

Would use her body as a message, as a warning, before moving on to the real hunt.

But instead— Instead, she was still alive.

Still in Kang's hands.

And that?

That complicated things.

Han exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. "She'll be fine" he muttered.

Mirae, ever composed, stood in front of him, a neatly prepared report in one hand, the other adjusting her glasses as she read through the options she had compiled in the past hour.

Options for survival.

Options for damage control.

Options for what to do about his daughter.

"Sir, we have two potential avenues to consider" Mirae began, her voice as calm and measured as always. "The first—an attempt to negotiate with Kang Minjae directly. We could use intermediaries, appeal to his business interests, and—"

Han scoffed, cutting her off with a sharp shake of his head. "Minjae doesn't negotiate."

Mirae didn't flinch.

She knew that.

But she had to say it anyway.

"The second" she continued, "is to assume she's already dead and focus on securing your own position moving forward. If that's the case, there's nothing more to be done."

Something snapped.

The glass in Han's hand flew.

Crystal and whiskey shattered against the cabin wall, the sharp crash breaking through the low hum of the plane's engines.

Mirae didn't move.

Didn't even blink.

Han's face twisted in rage, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven exhales.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" His voice was dangerously low, dripping with barely restrained fury. "That's my daughter you're talking about."

Mirae met his gaze, calm, steady.

She wasn't afraid of him.

She had worked for him too long to be afraid.

Instead, she simply adjusted her cuffs, her expression unreadable.

"I am talking about reality, Minister."

The title felt like a mockery.

Han's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening painfully.

Reality.

The reality was that Yeijin shouldn't have been there. She should have been safe in her apartment, completely uninvolved.

The plan was supposed to be perfect.

A clean escape.

A controlled fallout.

But instead, his stupid, stubborn daughter had walked straight into the fire.

And now—Kang Minjae had her.

The air felt suffocating.

A twisted mixture of rage, guilt, and an emotion he refused to name churned inside him like poison.

Mirae spoke again, voice careful. "Sir, if she is still alive, then Kang is keeping her for a reason. You know how he operates. He doesn't hold onto things without purpose."

Han wanted to believe that.

That Kang would see her as leverage. That she could be traded, negotiated, spared. That Kang—despite being a ruthless, sadistic bastard—wouldn't kill her for nothing.

But Han also knew something else.

Something much, much worse.

Kang Minjae didn't let go of what was his. And if he had kept Yeijin this long—

Then she was his now.

Han's stomach churned at the thought, a sharp, gut-wrenching sensation that made the rage in his chest burn hotter.

He wasn't a good father.

He never had been.

But he was still her father.

And Kang Minjae had taken his daughter.

A muscle in Han's jaw twitched. He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, trying to suppress the flood of emotions threatening to crack through his carefully built walls.

"What do you suggest?" he asked, his voice lower, rougher.

Mirae considered her words carefully. "We find a way to make her valuable. If she's leverage, we need something to trade. A counter-offer, a move that forces Kang's hand."

Han scoffed. "And if he's already decided she's not leverage?"

Mirae's silence was more terrifying than any answer she could have given.

Han swallowed.

His hands shook slightly, and for the first time since stepping onto this plane, he felt fear crawl into his chest.

Not for himself.

Not for his empire.

Not for his fucking reputation.

But for her.

Yeijin.

His little girl.

His blood.

The only thing left that truly belonged to him. And he had left her behind.

He took a slow, shuddering breath. "Find me a way" he ordered, voice dangerously low. "I don't care what it takes. I want my daughter back."

Mirae nodded.

Han Tae-Won squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help.

The sound was still there. Her voice. Fragile. Trembling. Terrified.

'I'm scared.'

Fuck.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the armrest of his seat until his knuckles turned white. He should be relieved that she was still alive. Should be grateful that Kang hadn't put a bullet in her head the second he realized she was useless. But instead?

Instead, all he could think about was the way she sounded.

'I'm scared.'

Yeijin.

His little girl.

His useless, naive, stubborn daughter.

She never cried.

Not when he was strict.

Not when he ignored her.

Not when she had to endure the weight of his expectations.

She never let herself break. But on that phone call? She had been breaking.

And for the first time— Han Tae-Won felt something he didn't want to feel.

Regret.

Not for himself.

Not for his legacy, his money, his reputation.

But for her.

He growled under his breath, running a frustrated hand through his graying hair.

This was pointless.

This weakness.

This fucking guilt.

Yeijin wasn't a child anymore. She was an adult. She was his daughter. She would find a way to survive. She had to.

But Kang Minjae.

Kang fucking Minjae.

Han hated him.

Hated him for being the monster he had no control over. Hated him for knowing his every move before he even made it.

And now? Now, that monster had Yeijin. And Han had no idea what he was going to do to her. He gritted his teeth, his mind spiraling with every possibility.

Would Kang keep her as leverage?

Would he use her as a bargaining chip?

Would he hurt her, break her, ruin her?

No.

No, Kang didn't kill innocents.

Didn't torture needlessly.

Didn't waste time on things that weren't useful.

But Yeijin…

She wasn't useful.

She had nothing to offer him.

Nothing to trade.

Nothing that could justify keeping her alive.

Fuck.

Han swallowed hard, gripping his temples. He shouldn't care. He shouldn't fucking care. But he could still hear her voice.

And for the first time in a long time—

Han Tae-Won was scared too.

22 YEARS AGO – SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

The ashtray was full.

Han Tae-Won sat in the dimly lit hospital room, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and resentment.

His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, cigarette burning lazily between his fingers.

He didn't look at the woman in the hospital bed.

Didn't acknowledge the way she laid there, exhausted, sweat still clinging to her forehead, her expression too weak to even glare at him.

She had been nothing more than another conquest.

Another beautiful, disposable thing he had entertained for a few months before moving on.

But then—she had gotten pregnant.

And everything had spiraled.

He hadn't believed it at first. Hadn't even thought twice about it.

A child? Not his problem.

Women like her always had plans.

Always had ways of handling these things.

But then his father found out. And suddenly, it had become his problem.

"You'll marry her."

The words had come sharp, absolute, non-negotiable.

Han had laughed.

Had actually laughed in his father's face.

But his father hadn't been joking.

"You are a Han. And Hans do not abandon their blood."

A forced marriage.

A publicly acceptable scandal.

A stain that could be spun into a narrative of responsibility.

And just like that—

Han Tae-Won had been trapped.

He hadn't gone to the hospital willingly.

Hadn't even wanted to see the child.

For months, he had ignored the pregnancy, refused to speak about it, refused to accept it.

It wasn't real. It wasn't his life.

But then—

The baby came.

The nurses handed him a tiny bundle, swaddled in soft white blankets.

And for the first time in his entire fucking life, Han Tae-Won froze.

He had expected to feel nothing.

Expected to look down and see just another burden.

Just another weight around his neck.

But instead—

He saw her.

She was small, barely more than a whisper of existence. Her tiny face, soft and delicate, was still slightly red from birth, her mouth moving slightly in silent curiosity.

She opened her eyes.

And Han forgot how to breathe.

Blue.

A piercing, impossible blue.

Not his color.

Not his father's.

But hers.

Her mother's.

The woman he had never loved, never cared for. A woman he had taken, used, and then discarded— And yet, somehow, she had left something undeniable behind.

A daughter.

A beautiful, fragile, tiny daughter.

Han swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His chest felt… tight.

Not with love. Not with affection. But with something he couldn't quite name.

And then— She reached for him.

A tiny hand, barely even capable of grasping. Her fingers curled around his thumb, impossibly soft, impossibly small.

And Han Tae-Won, a man who had never wanted to be a father, never wanted to be a husband, never wanted anything to do with this child—

Just stared.

For a long, long time.

The nurse said something. His wife was watching him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. The world was moving. But Han wasn't.

He sat there, his own hand completely still, letting this fragile, insignificant creature hold onto him like she actually needed him.

Like she actually trusted him.

Like he was actually worth something.

And for just one fleeting, infuriating moment—

Han Tae-Won felt like he was falling.

Not in love.

Not in adoration.

But in something far more dangerous.

A responsibility.

A weakness.

A bond he could never break.

And that?

That was the moment Han Tae-Won realized..

He would never truly be free of her.