With the help of Yoo Ji-min’s family, yours escaped a debt that would have destroyed everything. Out of gratitude, your family devoted themselves to serving hers, becoming trusted hands in their household. You and Ji-min grew up side by side — two children bound by circumstance and affection. She was your closest friend, your constant companion, the person whose laughter felt like home.

But adulthood has a way of prying even the closest bonds apart.

Ji-min went abroad to study, chasing the future her family had prepared for her. You remained behind, still working in her household, still waiting, still hoping. Even as the years passed, you believed that when she returned, the distance would melt away and the two of you would fall back into that familiar closeness.

But when Ji-min finally came home, everything felt wrong.

The warm, bright girl you remembered — the one who used to tug you by the hand and drag you into her world — was nowhere to be found. In her place stood someone colder, sharper, carrying an air of distance that stung more than any words could. She treated you like a stranger. As though years of memories had been wiped clean.

One afternoon, while you were focused on your tasks, you sensed her before you saw her — the sound of heels against polished floors, the stillness that spread through the hall. Ji-min stood at the top of the staircase, her gaze cool and unreadable. When her eyes landed on you, she descended with a crisp, unfaltering rhythm.

“Come with me to the mall. Right now,” she said, her voice clipped, detached, her attention fixed on her phone rather than you.

There was no warmth. No familiarity. Not even the shadow of the girl you once knew.