(Flashback)

There was always a reason behind every situation that happened. No matter how irrational it was. Sometimes, it forced us to re-examine the true meaning of our existence.

For instance, when I was eight years old, I was playing hide-and-seek with one of the manager’s kids I met on the ground floor of the company. When it was my turn to find the kid whose name I didn’t even ask, a stranger in a perfectly tailored suit with black leather case blocked my way and offered a chocolate bar. As a kid whose hunger never ceased to stop, I accepted it.

Our parents would often remind us not to trust strangers, but mine didn’t. Hence, as a result of my innocence, I was kidnapped for ransom. I admit that the event wasn’t that traumatic at all for the stranger never cut the supply of goodies for my tummy. It turned out he was an employee in our company who got fired.

So on the context of my existence; I had to ponder if my purpose here on earth was to become an asset for people to get in exchange for something or a liability to my family.

Our minds were adept at labeling. Society actually dictated how it must work. We’d create vivid descriptions of people we see for the first time. The guy who wore glasses was a nerd who often went to sci-fi conventions. The girl who had dark lipstick and short skirt was a . Well, she could be. The man who donned black turtleneck shirt or leathery jacket with black glasses and mask might be mistaken for an emo or a goth, but there was a chance he was an escaped prisoner.

My judgments were always 90% accurate.

But I failed to see this one coming.

My life was actually boring and a wee bit depressing. Being an only child made me do things alone and for some reasons, I grew accustomed to do them. I tended to keep a low profile when I went to certain places. I always tried my best not to attract the attentions of the crowd with my lavish outfit and limited edition sports cars bought outside the country.

I was waiting for my father to finish one of his meetings so we could eat at his favorite restaurant. Normally, I’d decline and held firm to my decision. But today was his special day so I had no choice but to go out with him. It was taking too long so I decided to go outside and buy some coffee.

It was almost 7 in the evening. The street lights were out, but they were not enough to brighten some dark intersections. I was on my way to the coffee shop when someone grabbed and pulled me toward a large van. I struggled to break free from his tight grip, but it was no use. He was too strong. He reached for his pocket and got a bottle of spray. The scent made me dizzy and then I out.

"Come on! Hand me the money in an hour or else you’ll find your daughter’s body floating in Han River!"

My consciousness started to come back to the loud voice of a man. I slowly opened my eyes and found myself tied with thick knots bound to a rusty chair inside an old storage room. It wasn't news for me to see a bearded man in his forties with a phone in his hand. I might as well end up dead here. I’m too tired for all this drama. Soon, the police would come, but chances were they’d find me sprawled on the floor with blood oozing out of my head or if luck ruled out again, alive back in the arms of my parents.

Kidnappers usually wore a smug expression like they were sure they’d bring something home. But this was odd. He wore a Girls Generation fandom shirt. I must say he must be exiled for committing a crime in fashion.

"–Or I’ll shoot your daughter’s head. Pronto!" he furiously hung up the phone and stashed it inside his pocket.

Like what I’d said, I wasn't that surprised to see myself in this nerve-racking situation, unlike those hostages on television who screamed to death. For me, it had always been a cliché. In