Seohyun stared sadly at her open notebook, lost in reminiscent thoughts about her younger days. She was sitting on her bed, packing up her belongings after dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Kim. Kris had hurriedly driven her back, adamant that she begin staying at his place. Unable to turn down his kind gesture, Seohyun had quickly thrown her clothes into her suitcase. 

They were lying in a messy heap now, piled in her open suitcase, as she stared intently at her journal. The illegible scrawl that dragged across the little book was so familiar. The polaroids that were glued onto the pages brought back the feelings, smells, touches of those single moments. Her eyes trailed from one yellowed page to the next, taking it all in, as if they weren't just memories, but new experiences. 

Her eyes fell upon a picture of her sister, with her strong jaw and defined nose. Seohyun was standing beside her, and their hands were joyfully clasped together. Their bright eyes were like reflections of each other, and then Seohyun realized that they had never looked much like each other. Minjee didn't have puffy cheeks like her, nor did she have full lips. 

Seohyun placed the diary back down and went back to her closet, carefully retrieving two identical scarves. One had once belonged to Minjee. 

Are you okay? Are you with Mom and Dad? Seohyun wondered, but quickly went back to packing when she remembered Kris waiting in her living room. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Wu shuffled to the bedroom. It was late and she was tired. Clients were always a hassle, half of them being wishy-washy men who couldn't win over their women. But because of these wishy-washy men did she earn a decent amount of money. She had often thought about going back, turning back to managing upstart starlets. She chuckled, they were a pain in the neck as well, and it didn't pay nearly as well as this. 

Heaving a sigh, she dropped onto her bed, sinking deeply into the soft mattress. Reaching over to her nightstand, she pulled out a few pictures. A whole and happy family in one, and little darling baby in another. She studied the little girl's soft cheeks and tiny hands, and the way her eyes were the most gentle shade of brown. What does my daughter look like now? Does she have my pointed nose? My thin lips? But regretful thoughts about raising her daughter quickly fled when she looked at the condition of the house, and the kind of work that she now engaged in. She didn't want her daughter to live like this, with a guilty conscience about the kind of job her mother did. 

She pulled out a newspaper, quite old with crumpled and faded pages. The article had a picture of a couple, young, beaming, and almost beautiful. Well, she would have complimented them if her bitter hatred did not cloud her judgment. Their faces were clearly etched into her mind. These detectives had driven her to almost total annihilation, almost uncovering her little scheme. Some girl that she had sold had managed to escape, rescued by the two.

From that day, they had tracked her movements, and it was difficult to conduct deceitful business behind another deceitful facade that she had to put in place. To throw them off, she had to be two steps ahead, and the fear of being revealed at any moment caused her tremendous stress. That was when she employed Mr. Park, the most perfectly helpless henchman. He was desperate for money, even more so than her. His children were still young, easy targets for her threats, ones that made sure of his loyalty. 

He complied to all her wishes, did all her dirty work, and if someone was going down, she had made sure it would be he who went first. He was a coward. It's the easiest thing to hold a coward by their dangling fears, and threaten to severe the strings that kept them afloat. 

He always left her presence shivering, and cowering. His wonderful acting had been the downfall of the detective couple. Park had tricked them, deceived them. He had led them to believe that he was in hopeless need of their help, that if they continued to pursue this investigation, his children would die. Their kind hearts had driven them to flee the country for his sake, because staying meant death at her hands but continuing their case would mean the death of "innocent" children. 

Foolish softhearted people. She made sure that if they set foot back in Korea, she would finish them. Don't dare return Kim Jaejoong, Kim Taeyeon. She laughed out into the empty night as she stared at the newspaper, at the smiling faces of the missing couple. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Seohyun struggled to fall asleep that night, images of her parents kept coming to her. It had been a while since this happened, but now it was occurring again. They seemed so close, but their faces kept merging with those of the Kim couple. 

Mr. Kim was so similar to her own father, with his distinct eyes and deep piercing gaze. Her own mother was almost identical to Mrs. Kim as well, petite with a warm luminous voice. I bet she can sing. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Kris snuck furtively into his bedroom, pausing for a moment at the door to take in the beautiful sight before him. Her neat hair was tussled and the sunlight threw rays upon her furrowed brows, as if she had fallen asleep uncomfortably. Her soft breathing was a melody to his ears as he approached her. Sitting comfortably on the bed, he held her hand gently as to not wake her. They were warm now.

He stood and walked over to his desk, intent on one thing. Looking at the stacks of letters, Kris' mind was resolute. He glanced back at Seohyun's sleeping form and nodded his head nervously, as if she could reply and erasure him. Her calm breathing gave him confidence and willpower. He was determined this time to actually read a letter. 

He reached for one, and shakily tore it open. His father's familiar handwriting was all over the page. Kris had never seen his father in the process of scribbling out his thoughts, but he had seen the unique scrawl all around the house during his youth. His eyes widened. These are all in chronological order. He read each letter carefully, and slowly, his eyes reassure. 

They were bitter. He couldn't taste the tears, but he knew they were a salty bitter. 

As Kris placed the last letter back into its envelope, he leaned against the table, as if he couldn't support his own weight. 

His dad had left for a reason, and he hadn't forgotten about Kris. He had a sister he never even knew about. His mom was lost, truly and totally lost. And there was nothing he could do now. How long has she been doing this? How could she give up my sister? Questions flooded him, and it was like he was swept away in a deluge of confusion.

His mother kidnapped people? And of all the girls in Korea, Seohyun was her next target. 

Suddenly, he reread the last letter. His father must have slipped up in hiding his sister's name, because clearly, it stated, "I still pray for Minjee." Minjee.