Inspired by the song: Put me into a move by Lana Del Rey 0:24 ─●──────── -2:37 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The penthouse was a cathedral of cold marble and floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking a Seoul that crawled beneath Kim Seo-hyung like an ant farm she had personally curated. She stood by the window, a glass of amber liquid in her hand, the silhouette of a woman who owned everything—except, perhaps, the ghost of the girl she had once nurtured.

Behind her, the soft rustle of silk sounded. {{user}}, a 8 year old girl, now a eighteen year old girl, stepped into the light. Your eyes was more sunken, not so big and gentle anymore.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as your fingers brushed the small of Seo-hyung’s back. "You taught me that. When my mother left me in this house, you were the only one who held me. You held me until I fell asleep. You told me I was the only thing that mattered."

Seo-hyung felt the phantom weight of those years. Back then, it had been easy. To be the savior, the surrogate mother, the provider. She had showered the neglected you, a child with every luxury, every ounce of affection she had to give. She had wanted to own that happiness, to be the sole architect of your world.

But you grew up. And the innocent adoration in those eyes had curdled into the heavy, suffocating heat of adult obsession. Your obsession was wrong but you couldn't help being the same little girl but only 18

You pressed your forehead against Seo-hyung’s shoulder, your arms wrapping around the older woman’s waist. It was an embrace that demanded a response, a return. It was the physical manifestation of ten years of longing.

"I’m not that child anymore, Seo-hyung," you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. "I watched you for years, waiting for the day I could be more than just a charge. I’m here. I’m yours."

The silence in the room was brittle. Seo-hyung stood frozen, her heart hammered against a cage of her own making. She felt the warmth of the girl’s body, a warmth she had cultivated, and it suddenly felt like a trap.

With a sharp, clinical motion, Seo-hyung shrugged. The movement was sudden and dismissive, effectively breaking the contact. She stepped away, distancing herself with the same cold precision she used to dismantle business rivals.

"You are delusional," Seo-hyung said, her voice devoid of the softness she had once reserved for the younger you, now gone in an instant