Chapter 2

Hee-Jun reported to Woo-San, his tone laced with concern, "She got drunk and left the restaurant, Sir." Yixan's pattern of running away from her problems had become a familiar cycle, one that included drowning her sorrows in alcohol to numb the ache of her reality. This habitual escape was her only source of solace, a fleeting comfort in a life that felt perpetually adrift. With her father abandoning and her mother having passed away long ago, Yixan found herself isolated in Korea, holding onto only three tenuous connections. Two of those, she knew, were so strained that she would never ask for their support in moments of need. As such, she turned to the bottle, seeking refuge in its depths, a tragic and lonely flight from her existential turmoil.

The cold indifference of the Kim family, who had long since cast her aside, compounded her suffering. They viewed her as a disgrace—a foolish girl who had chosen the path of her parents, believing she was a blight upon their reputation and a bringer of misfortune. In their eyes, Yixan was not just the more deserving heir to the K&L Group; she was a failure for having left to pursue a life that strayed from their materialistic ideals. To the Kim family, wealth was the supreme ruler, eclipsing all else, including familial bonds and genuine affection.

"Did she attract any unwanted attention?" Woo-San inquired, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the implications of Yixan's indiscretions. For the Kim family, the stakes were always high; their standing and reputation in society were paramount. Losing a shred of that status would be reminiscent of asking their own flesh and blood to walk away because of a marriage that tarnished the family legacy.

"We ensured she slipped into the building without drawing any eyes, as mandated by the chairman," Hee-Jun assured.

The reality , however, was different. This was merely the narrative Yixan had been conditioned to believe. In truth, it was a facade spun by her father, full of deceit and manipulation. Yixan felt powerless against the tides of her family's control. Complaining to anyone who would listen became her only form of rebellion, a cry for understanding in a world that seemed determined to silence her. Each complaint was a plea, a desperate attempt to illuminate the shadows that threatened to consume her hopes and dreams.

"We have ensured that bodyguards follow her at all times, as per your instructions." Yet, the Kim family harbored genuine care for Yixan, a sentiment that extended beyond mere surface-level concerns. They revered Yixan as the last vestige of their beloved daughter, who once lived a life akin to that of a princess. However, her husband, a man driven by insatiable greed and selfishness, clouded her mind with his toxic beliefs.

Kim & Lian Entertainment was established by the second son of the Kim family. This ambitious family was instrumental in introducing revolutionary technologies, such as airplanes, that transformed the nation's landscape. The second son, Yui-Hyuk Kim, was particularly driven by the legacy of his lineage. True to his name, which means "shining brilliance," he displayed remarkable intellectual prowess from a tender age. Together with his childhood companion, Zhiyu Lian, Yui-Hyuk aspired to carve out his own niche in the world of business, seeking to establish a separate identity and legacy.

Meanwhile, Zhiyu Lian pursued his passion for acting, ultimately founding the acting division of K&L Entertainment. However, their journey took a tragic turn when Zhiyu, under the influence of alcohol, was involved in a devastating accident. In the wake of this incident, Yui-Hyuk was forced to terminate all contracts with Zhiyu, a decision he made while his friend lay unconscious. Unfortunately, Zhiyu passed away without ever comprehending the full scope of his circumstances, and Yui-Hyuk was left haunted by the weight of his decisions, unable to attend his friend's funeral, a regret that lingered in his heart throughout his life.

Years later, Yui-Hyuk's life took another unexpected turn when his daughter, Ji-Won, returned home with a baby and a husband, Do-Yun Lee, who turned out to be the illegitimate son of Zhiyu. Initially, the Kim family welcomed them with open arms, but on the condition that Do-Yun kept his past hidden. However, Do-Yun quickly revealed ulterior motives, seeking to undermine K&L Entertainment—now evolved into K&L Group. When Yui-Hyuk caught wind of Do-Yun's treachery, he expelled him from their home, only for Do-Yun to resort to blackmail, taking Ji-Won with him under the pretense of Yixan's well-being, whose birth name was Ga-Ram Lee.

Ultimately, when Do-Yun realized he could no longer manipulate the Kim family using Ga-Ram as leverage, he committed the unthinkable—murdering Ji-Won before fleeing to China, and leaving the innocent Ga-Ram abandoned in an orphanage in China, where he made sure that no one could find her as she was given a new name. Despite the tragic circumstances, Yui-Hyuk managed to bring his granddaughter back to Korea.

Ga-Ram, now known as Yixan, had been thoroughly indoctrinated by her father's relentless narrative. Despite the passage of years since her abandonment, Yixan clung tightly to the belief that the Kim family bore responsibility for her mother's death and her father's subsequent disappearance. This deep-seated resentment towards the Kims simmered within her; however, she never once entertained the notion of confronting them or plotting revenge. After all, it was the Kim family that had brought her back to her rightful homeland, rescuing her from the dark, forsaken life Do-Yun had harshly left her to face.

Do-Yun's life took a steep turn as he fled his past, eventually finding himself cornered by the Chinese authorities on multiple charges, including assault, drunk driving, and theft. The consequences were severe, resulting in a lengthy prison sentence. Even after learning of her father's fate, Yixan struggled to dissipate the distrust she harbored towards those who had once abandoned her. In the midst of her turmoil, there remained only one person she felt comfortable confiding in—her childhood neighbor, Sung-Hoon.

As Sung-Hoon softly pushed open the door to the modest apartment, he whispered, "Is she sleeping?" Yeon-Jun nodded in response, gesturing towards the closed door of his bedroom. "I'll take the living room," Sung-Hoon said, heading over to a well-worn ottoman. He expertly opened it, retrieving a pillow and a blanket with the ease of someone accustomed to this routine.

Yeon-Jun signed with a hint of exasperation, "I've told you so many times to clean out the art room and transform it into a proper bedroom." Each movement of his fingers conveyed frustration that had built over countless discussions. "If you're aware that she has nowhere else to go, why do you keep insisting on letting her take your bed while you sleep uncomfortably on the couch?" Yeon-Jun was known for his concise, to-the-point communication. He rarely initiated conversations, and even when he did, it was generally limited to short, direct questions. However, when his frustration escalated, his signing quickened, and his phrases grew longer—a clear signal to those around him, especially to Sung-Hoon, that it was time to choose their words wisely or risk provoking him further.

"Tomorrow, you're going to clean the art room and set it up as a bedroom for her," Yeon-Jun insisted, his resolve firm. "I want her to feel welcome here, to understand she's not a burden. We should have the means to accommodate her when she struggles with the decision of whether to return home or not. In fact, we should invite her to move in permanently."

That proposition, however, loomed larger than the daunting task of clearing years' worth of accumulated dust and clutter from the art room. Sung-Hoon dropped to his knees in mock desperation. "Anything but that," he pleaded, his tone more theatrical than sincere. "We've had this discussion more times than I can count—I'm not going through it again. Please, I beg you."

There it was again, the familiar element of Sung-Hoon's personality that both irritated and amused Yeon-Jun. With characteristic decisiveness, Yeon-Jun shot back, "No," and turned away, leaving Sung-Hoon to face the prospect of yet another sleepless night, wracked by thoughts of how to navigate the challenges ahead.

"Is he furious?" Yixan inquired, biting her lip as she glanced nervously at Sung-Hoon. She had successfully managed to steer clear of Yeon-Jun the entire day, fearing he might still be upset with her over the chaos that had unfolded the previous day. Sung-Hoon sighed deeply, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"I'm certain he's angry. I lost my control a bit too much yesterday; I got carried away with my emotions, and alcohol," Yixan admitted, her voice laced with uncertainty.

The silence that enveloped them lingered for an agonizing minute and a half. Yixan knew Sung-Hoon well enough to understand that he could never give the silent treatment for long. It had been a quirk of his since childhood, and she had unknowingly learned to use that knowledge to her advantage.

"Congratulations! You've officially broken my cycle," young Sung-Hoon declared dramatically as he picked up his bike, dusting off the dirt from the ground after Ga-Ram had playfully kicked it down. "I'm never going to talk to you again!" he added, his voice tinged with the intensity of a child's emotions. Ga-Ram, unfazed and unconcerned, shrugged it off as she continued about her day. Earlier that day, as she was playing alone, she recalled how she would always watch Sung-Hoon's father playing with him, a warm bond that contrasted sharply with her own feelings of isolation, especially during the times when her mother had cruelly been kicked out of the Kim family. So, she decided to kick his bicycle down in anger. And in her eyes, she had done the right thing.

"She ruined my day. I'm never going to speak to her again," Sung-Hoon wailed to his father, his small face contorted with frustration and confusion. In response, his father leaned down, placing a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder, imparting a lesson that would resonate with Sung-Hoon for years to come. "Everything happens for a reason, son. Emotions are universal. You know, if you truly talk to her, she might reveal her side of the story—why she kicked your bike down—and perhaps this conflict can be resolved. If you don't communicate, nothing will ever be settled."

Thankfully, young Sung-Hoon absorbed his father's words with a maturity that was impressive for his age. Summoning the courage he needed, he sought out Ga-Ram, eager to talk things through. However, by the time he mustered the willingness to forgive her and extend the olive branch, he discovered that Ga-Ram and her family had already moved away from the house next door, leaving him with an unresolved feeling in his chest and a lesson learned too late.

"I need you to find someone for me," Yixan declared with unwavering resolve as she sat across from Yui-Hyuk on her first day in his home after being taken from the orphanage. Her tone was steady, radiating a confidence that suggested she had never experienced true hardship. In truth, it was those very hardships she had endured that forged her unshakable demeanor.

"I didn't bring you here to let you leave!" Yui-Hyuk retorted, his voice sharp and edged with frustration. Yet, Yixan's composure remained unaffected by his outbursts.

"The place you rescued me from was the same place you cast me aside," Yixan replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears but refusing to show any sign of weakness. "You can't pretend to care now, not when it's already too late. I will never accept you all as my family. All I ask is that you help me find this person, and then I will leave. If you can't even do this simple favor, then I'll go on my own, and you won't have anything to hold against me." Her negotiating prowess shone through, making it all the more clear to Yui-Hyuk that the fierce girl before him bore an unmistakable resemblance to his own flesh and blood. With no other option available, he reluctantly conceded.

"We found the person," Woo-San announced, handing Yixan a glossy photograph of the individual she sought, accompanied by a manila envelope filled with crucial details. An exhilarating rush coursed through Yixan as anticipation gripped her; she was ready to bolt. However, Woo-San's firm grip halted her. "You might want to change into something more subdued and erase that smile before you head out. I don't think your enthusiasm would be appropriate for a funeral."

As Yixan made her way to the funeral home, her legs quaked beneath her, but she steeled herself, focusing on the mission at hand. Upon arriving, she entered a dimly lit room where somber faces whispered sorrow in hushed tones. Her gaze fell upon a lonely boy, cradling a man in his arms, the boy's body shaking as he wept openly.

"Mr. Sung-Hoon Cha?" Yixan called out, her voice cutting through the stillness and drawing the boy's attention away from his grief. He looked up, his tear-streaked face a mixture of shock and recognition, and beckoned the man on his sad to notice her.

The man immediately stood up, moving to greet Yixan with an air of cautious curiosity. "Who are you?" he asked gently, wiping his eyes and nose.

"Ga-Ram Kim," Yixan replied, the name falling from her lips with a bittersweet weight. It had been so long since she or anyone else had called her by that name. A flicker of recollection danced in man's eyes, mirrored by a sudden influx of memory, perhaps recalling his father's words tied to that specific name

"I came to formally apologize for kicking your bicycle that day," she continued earnestly. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, as it was the last wish your father asked of me."

Sung-Hoon's father knelt down to Yixan's level, his expression softening as he sought to connect with her. "Are you Ga-Ram?" He asked, his voice melodic and kind, though tinged with sorrow. "You kicked down Sung-Hoon's bike today. What did my son do that made you react so strongly?" Yixan fell silent, the weight of her past settling heavily upon her shoulders. Yet, Sung-Hoon's father, fully aware of the turmoil woven through her life, gently guided her to a nearby bench. He tenderly stroked her hair, soothingly.

"When we have conflicts with others, it's important to express those feelings openly," he said, imparting wisdom. "All children have emotions, and those feelings are valid. I hope you and Sung-Hoon can reconcile and forgive one another. And may you both grow to be good friends in the future." As the words hung in the air, an unspoken hope flourished within them, and perhaps, just maybe, his dream would soon be realized.