Yura's life is packed in a single suitcase and backpack. It wasn't until she was told that she's not the biological daughter of the Quin family that she realized how small her life is to fit in such little space.
16 years.
For 16 years, she's been unloved. Unwanted. Sent to live with relatives and shuffled around with the excuse of them needing an extra set of hands on their farm or an elderly relative needing somebody to help care for them. Anything to avoid keeping Yura at the Quin house for too long. How many nights did she spend lying awake and trying to understand why her parents didn't want her? Why did her family keep trying to get rid of her so she wouldn't be in their sight?
And all this time, they weren't even her family. The hospital made it sound simple. A mistake anybody could make. Two baby girls were swapped and sent home with the wrong parents. It came off as clinical, ignoring the reality that two girls lived lives they weren't meant to have, only to now be told that their real families are these strangers they've been sent to live with.
Now, she's standing in front of the wrought iron gates that surround the Daesun Estate—the place where she was supposed to grow up. Allegedly.
But for Yura, the idea of entering the Daesun family feels more like walking to her execution than it does returning home. Everybody in the country of Jinhwa knows of the Daesun family. She wouldn't even call it an exaggeration to say that the country wouldn't exist without their influence, wealth, and connections.
And she's expected to walk into the largest house she's seen, past the manicured gardens and walking paths, and just... join the family?
If she wasn't so tired from walking all the way here from the closest bus stop, she'd laugh. Instead, her legs and back ache with the reminders of her trip from another district that included a train and more than one bus, followed by her realizing that she didn't have enough money for a cab to take her the rest of the way to the estate. The Quins didn't give her money for the trip. Why would they? They spent her entire life trying their best to keep her out of their home. She remembers living with an elderly great aunt with the excuse that she needed someone to care for her. After that, it was an uncle who needed help on his farm. When they couldn't find a relative to take her, they sent her away to a boarding school. Always a new location with a reason that glossed over the truth: they didn't want her.
Mr. and Mrs. Quin seemed to know from the beginning that Yura wasn't their real child, even before the hospital's mistake came to light. Like they felt that she didn't belong.
And they were right.
With a deep breath that she hopes will give her courage (it doesn't), Yura walks through the iron gates that have been opened for her and starts down the long path to the estate's entrance.
She doesn't let herself get her hopes up. The Daesun family spent 16 years loving the girl they thought was their real daughter, and now Yura is showing up to disrupt their routine. Distort their harmony.
It's only natural to expect that they'll resent her, or keep her at arm's length at best. Really, she'll be happy to have a place to sleep and enough food to live off of. That's not too much to ask, and it's not like she's unwilling to do chores in return.
By the time Yura has her hand on the door knocker, her heart has been squished down by her own words as she tempered her expectations.
Another house. Another set of strangers she's told she's related to.
Before she knocks, the door opens and a man greets her. He's not old enough to be her father, but he's also dressed too nicely to be part of the estate's staff.
One of the sons, then. Her brother, technically. There are three of them, if she remembers correctly, and one older sister.
Yura bows in greeting, but all he says is, "You took your time getting here."
She feels the heat of embarrassment rush to her face. "I'm sorry. I walked here from the bus stop by the Jinhwa First Daycare building. I didn't realize there weren't any stops that are closer."
The door opens a bit wider, and Yura takes that as her cue to follow him inside. It's just as grand as the outside, looking like somebody plucked the rooms right out of a magazine or lifestyle website and decided that's where they'd be living. While there's evidence that this house is lived in—empty mugs of tea on coffee tables and a throw blanket unceremoniously tossed over the back of a chair—it's clear that this house is also cared for with precision. The kind of precision that's only found with the help of hired professionals.
"The Quins didn't have their driver bring you here?" he asks, leading her through the house without bothering to tell her anything about the rooms they pass. He's clearly not here to give her a guide, just to take her to a designated location.
"No," Yura says. She doesn't explain. If he's asking, then maybe the Daesuns don't know how she was the outcast in what was supposed to be her family. Maybe they haven't realized she's not worth keeping.
"You didn't have money for a cab?" His tone isn't judgmental, but there's an edge to it that Yura can't place.
"...No."
He doesn't ask anything else, instead letting the topic drop. She doesn't know if that's good or bad. She just does what she's always been taught. Keep her head down. Don't ask too many questions. Be invisible.
Except being invisible feels impossible when she's led into what looks like a sitting room, and the rest of the Daesun family is there, staring at her as she walks in.
Yura's legs were sore from walking to the estate with her luggage.
Now, she can't feel them at all.