I glare at my unevenly frayed left index fingernail. Sunshine glints through spaces our lazily drawn blinds into my family’s living room. Well, it’s also our bedroom, our kitchen, our dining room. Thankfully not our bathroom. But even if we’re forced to lay low as high-profile ex-residents of the state, even if we had to move from our sprawling estate into this box of an apartment, I can still cling to my standards in appearance. I was never like my sisters or mother anyway—my closet was never full of kitsch, crystal-studded gowns, but I always kept a tidy appearance.

If you could see my mother and sisters now. I grumbled up at them, though their makeshift couch of suitcases covered by a tattered blanket wasn’t too far above the ground I crouched on. I went back to scrubbing the mildew off the corners of our room, now our home, where the fierce rainwater had just last night soaked through the thin drywall. My brother paced outside in the hallway, keeping watch alternately with my father, who somehow slept while my mother continued to sigh and lament the situation that had befallen her children.

Outside, a heard an unfamiliar deep voice exchange words with my brother. I looked up just in time to see a tall man, maybe around my age, stroll into our room. His leather boots sharply contrasted with the worn wooden ground it walked on. His tight black jeans couldn’t hide the rippling muscles underneath, though I’m sure he wasn’t trying since his equally tight white shirt accentuated his upper body. His hair was slicked back and he smelled like chemicals. Nope, definitely not my style.  

“Nice to meet you, My Lady,” he addressed my mother, bowing deeply, “my name is Kim Jongin”.

I’m not sure if I mentioned the high profile thing, but my mother happens to be the prime minister’s daughter. Although that means something to her for whatever reason I can’t understand, I assure you it hasn’t done us any good since the overthrow of the crown. I guess it should be better now, since it’s supposed to be under democratic rule and merged with the neighboring state where we live now. But who are they kidding? All the state propaganda in the world won’t change the fact that the military took advantage of weak leadership to bleed our country dry of its resources. Enough for my political commentary, and back to the present.

My mother eyed him warily. “How did you find us?”

“I don’t have any political aims, please don’t worry. However, I heard you were in some financial trouble and that you have a son with peculiar talents. We’re quite interested in helping you out, if you’ll indulge us.”

“And who is this ‘us’ exactly?”

“I need to maintain some discretion in discussing this, but my group is a private, er, company… in the automotive industry.”

My eyes immediately locked onto this Kim Jongin’s neck. His collarbone tattoo showed the tip of a sign I’d recognize anywhere. EXO! It was a secretive and elite group. And that’s basically all anyone knew about them. I’m not one of those spoiled royal children or anything, I just indulged my parents’ money in a bit of street racing in the day and I raced some of their members… But how did they find me here? And oh no. They think I’m my brother.

“I think you’re mistaken; my son has nothing to do with that kind of thing.”

“If you’ll hear me out please—“

The government siren interrupted him right then and there. My father shot up from his slumber and immediately fetched the key hanging from his neck. I was frozen in place as the police cars pulled up to the building entrance and uniformed soldiers marched out, as the rest of my family shoved themselves into the secret room in the wall, as this Kim Jongin guy grabbed me, eyes wide, and pulled me with him into the hallway and straight off the balcony thirty stories off the ground.