No one's girl: The price of a daughter

Chapter one: Rainfall

The rain lashed against the windows like impatient fingers, tapping louder with every passing minute. I sat curled up on my bed, a worn novel resting in my hands, the words on the page blurring into the shadows cast by the dim lamp beside me. It was a cold, bleak night in Seoul. The kind that wrapped the city in a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional growl of thunder or the hiss of passing cars below.

The house felt emptier than usual. My father was away—again. This time on a business trip to Japan. It should've brought me peace, a moment to breathe without his suffocating presence, but tonight something felt... off.

A craving stirred in me. Tea. I'd always found comfort in the ritual—its warmth, its familiarity. I closed my book, letting it rest on the blanket beside me, and swung my legs off the bed. The wooden floor chilled my bare feet as I stood.

The house was dim, the hallway lit only by the soft blue glow of the moon spilling through the windows. I walked slowly, not bothering to turn on any lights. I knew this place by heart.

I had just reached the stairs when I froze.

Voices. Low, urgent... unfamiliar. Male.

I wasn't supposed to be alone?

A chill swept through me, colder than the rain outside. My eyes widened as I leaned toward the stairwell, just enough to catch sight of two men standing in the entrance hall. They were speaking in Japanese—a language I understood all too well. My father had made sure of that.

"It'll be easier to find a proper heir for my company," he used to say with that usual sneer, dismissing my worth without hesitation. "Women aren't made to lead." Misogynist old man, if you ask me.

I crouched down, my breath catching in my throat. They hadn't seen me. Not yet.

"The girl has to be somewhere in this house. I'll check upstairs—you look around here."

My breath hitched. Girl?

"Don't forget what the boss said. Not a single scratch. He paid a fortune to have her."

It felt like the floor vanished beneath me.

Paid... to have her?

The words echoed in my mind like a siren. Cold. Clinical. Final.

It's you, Youn-jin. They're talking about you.

A wave of nausea hit me.

I rose, forcing my limbs to move even as panic screamed through my veins. Step by step, I moved quietly but quickly, slipping down the hall, back toward my room—toward anything that might help me escape.

My fingers trembled as I pushed open the door to my room, every creak in the wood sounding like a scream. I closed it behind me as quietly as I could and locked it—though I knew a lock would do nothing against men who had been paid to take me.

My mind raced. No time to cry. No time to fall apart.

The window.

I rushed to it, pulling the curtains aside. Rain blurred the glass, and beyond it, the darkness of our narrow backyard swayed with shadows. The drop wasn't high—maybe a floor and a half. If I landed wrong, I'd break something. If I didn't jump at all... they'd break everything.

I backed away from the window, heart thundering, and grabbed my backpack from the closet. It still had some school supplies inside—useless now—but I shoved my wallet, charger, and the emergency cash I once slipped between my textbooks. "Just in case..." I had told myself.

I paused.

A sketchbook lay on the shelf above. My sanctuary, my voice, the one thing my father hadn't taken from me. I stuffed it into the bag too.

Footsteps. On the stairs.

They were coming.

I flung the window open. The icy wind hit me like a slap, but I welcomed it. I needed to feel something other than fear.

I didn't look down. Just threw the bag first, then hoisted myself onto the ledge, rain soaking through my sleeves in seconds. One deep breath. One whispered prayer.

"God... please don't let them find me."

And then I jumped.

The landing was brutal. Pain shot through my ankle, and I tumbled into the mud with a grunt—but I was alive. Breathing. Moving.

The back gate. If I could just—

A shout cut through the storm. Lights flared behind me. They'd found the open window.

"Run," I told myself aloud. "Run, Youn-jin."

And I did.

Through the rain, through the night, into a city that wouldn't stop for a lost girl. But I couldn't stop either—not until I found safety.

Not until I found my brother.

I didn't know how long I ran. My feet pounded against the slick pavement, dodging puddles and shadows alike. The pain in my ankle throbbed with every step, but fear numbed it. Fear of what they would do if they caught me. Fear of what my father had already done.

Seoul was a blur—streetlights flickering like dying stars, honks echoing like alarms in the distance. People passed by, heads low under umbrellas, too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice a girl dripping with rain and desperation.

I kept going.

Past convenience stores and shuttered cafés. Past the alley where a cat darted into the darkness and a man cursed after dropping his cigarette. The storm swallowed everything—my breath, my thoughts, my innocence.

By the time I collapsed on the back steps of a closed laundromat, my legs could no longer carry me. I hugged my soaked backpack to my chest and leaned against the cold concrete wall, gasping.

It hit me then.

I had nowhere to go.

No address. No plan. No phone signal.

Just one name pulsing in my heart like a drumbeat.

Song-Ho

My brother.

He had disappeared two years ago, after another brutal fight with our father. They said he'd run away to Russia.

He was out there. And now, he was all I had.

The metro wasn't far. I still had some cash—and my credit card, though I knew better than to use it. One transaction, and my father would know exactly where I was. He tracked everything.

I spotted a convenience store with an ATM tucked beside it. Glancing over my shoulder, heart still racing, I slipped inside. The machine beeped as I withdrew every last won I could without triggering suspicion. It wasn't much—but enough to move.

Minutes later, I was on the metro, soaked and shivering beneath my hoodie. The city passed by outside the window in a blur of lights and shadow. No one looked at me twice. Just another tired girl riding through the storm.

By the time I stepped off at the stop near Incheon Airport, the rain had slowed to a cold drizzle. I kept my head down, blending into the early morning travelers, my fingers clutching my backpack like it was the only piece of my life left.

I didn't know exactly where I was going yet. But I knew where I wasn't staying.

Not in Seoul.

Not in his house.

Not his daughter anymore.