Eunji’s days in the mansion had blurred into a series of routines. The relentless hours of modeling training, the never-ending lessons in poise and grace, and the perfecting of her Japanese to the point where it flowed as naturally as her first language. The gap between who she had been and who she was becoming had grown wider than she could ever have imagined.

She had learned to shut out the whispers, the sadness, and the truth she now knew about her father. Instead, she channeled all her hurt into something more tangible—into the image she was forced to create. A perfect, flawless version of herself. A version Hiroto could be proud of.

Her body had transformed, shedding its youthful softness for sharp, sculpted lines that reflected the ideals of beauty in the fashion world. The once soft curves of her face now held a sharp elegance that made her look older than her years. Her skin, once touched by youthful imperfections, was now smooth and radiant, glowing with the careful attention of constant treatments. The hair that once held the simple charm of a young girl was now perfectly styled, a cascade of dark waves that framed her delicate, porcelain face.

She looked in the mirror one day and was struck by a haunting resemblance—not to the girl she once was, but to a woman she had never met.

Her mother. Miyako.

The more Eunji transformed, the more she saw Miyako’s features emerge in her own reflection. Her almond-shaped eyes, the high cheekbones, the delicate line of her jaw—all those things she had never noticed before now stared back at her. It was as if she were looking at a different version of herself, a version molded by Hiroto’s desire for perfection. She hated it, yet she couldn’t stop it.

At school, Eunji was a star. The elite Japanese academy that Hiroto had enrolled her in was filled with the children of the most powerful families in the country. They expected perfection, and Eunji delivered it effortlessly. Her Japanese, once stilted and foreign, had now become so fluid it sounded as though she had been born to speak it. She excelled in every subject, effortlessly rising to the top of her class. Her classmates looked at her with awe, some with envy, and others with admiration. She had become the embodiment of everything they strived for: beauty, intellect, and social grace.

But none of them knew the truth of who she was. They saw the flawless, quiet girl who rarely spoke of her past, who dazzled them with her composure and intelligence. But Eunji had long since learned how to hide herself from the world.

She avoided Hiroto at all costs, keeping her distance from the man who had become both her savior and her prison. Every time he called, every time he visited the school to check on her progress, she would retreat into the shadows. She knew he was watching her, silently pleased by her achievements, but she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. She couldn’t bear to confront him, not yet, not without confronting the truth of her own pain.

Her parents—Jihoon and Hyesoo—had become strangers to her as well. They still reached out, still tried to bridge the gap between them, but Eunji had closed herself off from them too. Their presence only reminded her of the life she had once known, the life where she had been loved and protected without the weight of secrets. But that life no longer felt real to her. It was a distant memory, one she couldn’t return to.

Instead, she buried herself in her studies and her modeling. She had learned to become everything the world expected of her, everything Hiroto wanted her to be. But in doing so, she lost the person she once was—the girl who dreamed of a simple, peaceful life, the girl who was loved not for her beauty or her achievements, but for who she was inside.

One evening, after a grueling day of training, Eunji returned to the mansion, her mind numb from the exhaustion. The mansion was eerily quiet, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos in her head. She walked through the halls, her steps echoing in the empty space, and found herself standing in front of a mirror.

Her reflection was a stranger’s face, the perfect, poised young woman staring back at her with icy, unreadable eyes. She traced her fingers along her cheekbone, the sharp line of it. It was a face that had become her mask, her shield against the world. The girl who had once known joy, who had laughed freely with Jihoon and Hyesoo, who had dreamed of being anything other than a model—she was gone.

She had erased her past, discarded it for the sake of becoming the perfect version of herself that Hiroto and the world demanded. But in doing so, she had sacrificed everything that made her real.

She had become the person she was forced to be, but in the process, she had lost herself entirely.

As the days passed, Eunji’s emotional distance from Hiroto and her “parents” grew. They no longer had the same hold on her as they once did. They were figures in her life, yes, but they were no longer the people who had shaped her. Hiroto had molded her into something he could control, and Jihoon and Hyesoo were just the background, shadows of the family she once thought she knew.

But the truth—the painful truth she had uncovered—still lingered in the corners of her mind, just out of reach.

She had learned to suppress it, to hide it away. But it wouldn’t go away. One day, when she was strong enough, she would confront it. One day, when she was ready to face the man who had claimed her as his daughter, the man who had hidden the truth from her all these years, she would demand answers.

But for now, she remained silent, perfect, and alone in her reflection.