CHAPTER SEVEN
Echoes of the past | 과거의 메아리

⚘( ၴႅၴ

"Hey..."

"Hey, (Your name), how are you?"

Crystal's tone was light but curious, her voice holding that familiar warmth and subtle hint of sarcasm.

"I... attacked..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Crystal to know what she'd been up to—especially someone as blunt and straightforward as her.

"Attacked?" Crystal raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that inquisitive look she wore when sensing something was up.

"I... uh, I attacked PTJ Entertainment. I auditioned there—turns out it's one of your branches?" She tried to sound nonchalant, her fingers fidgeting as she adjusted her grip on the phone.

"Oh... yeah, DK's in charge of that branch. Got bored with life to the point you're signing up everywhere?"

"I only went because some friends invited me, and somehow, I ended up joining in."

"Friends?" Crystal pouted, putting extra emphasis on the word as if it were foreign to her. "You have other friends?"

"Believe it or not, yes," she replied with a half-smile. "I used to think the whole world hated me, but I guess not. It's a miracle, huh."

Crystal shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, fine, but just... don't go doing anything crazy."

"You know me; I've always done random things," she said with a shrug, though there was a note of challenge in her voice.

"Yes, but now that I'm here, I'll try my best to make sure you don't drift off into every crazy idea that pops into your head," Crystal replied, a mock sternness in her voice.

"Wow, intense," she teased, laughing softly. "Anyway, the real reason I called—what time is that ball you mentioned? And how high are the heels you got for me?"

Crystal laughed. "Tomorrow night at 9:30 PM."

"Midnight? You're kidding, right?" she groaned, pulling a face at the thought of dressing up for an entire evening event.

"Oh, don't complain. You're always up late anyway," Crystal replied, smirking.

"True, but night walks are different," she countered, her mind wandering to the quiet streets and the peace of walking under the stars.

"Speaking of walks, don't worry about the heels. They're only three inches."

"Only?! You know I could twist an ankle in those, right?"

"Also, what was with that sad tone earlier?" Crystal's voice softened, and she paused. "Did something happen?"

"Sort of..." She hesitated, feeling the sudden urge to confide in Crystal but holding back, not sure how to start.

"You can tell me."

She took a deep breath. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Alright," Crystal replied, her voice gentle. "But remember, if you need anything, I'm here for you throughout this adventure. You can balance yourself well; I believe in you."

The words warmed her. "Thanks... that actually means a lot."

There was a moment of comfortable silence, her mind clouded with thoughts and questions. Her past, her current life, the mission that lingered in the back of her mind, and the future she was stepping into—each thought swirled around, leaving her feeling both hopeful and a bit unsure.

"Alright then, goodnight."

"Goodnight, and make sure you get some sleep. I'd threaten that someone would haunt you if you didn't, but you already look like the one doing the haunting." Crystal chuckled.

"Hahaha." She rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a smile.

"Goodnight, (Your name)."

"Goodnight, Crystal."

She hung up, sighing softly as she checked her tracker, tracing her finger along the screen.

"I could totally stab someone with these heels," she murmured, a smirk crossing her face as she imagined the unlikely use of her new shoes.

Flashback

After Crystal was adopted, it was as if an invisible barrier went up between her and the rest of the world. The joy she once felt playing with the other kids at the orphanage, the endless games of hide-and-seek, the laughter that echoed down empty hallways—all of it faded, replaced by silence. She could still hear their laughter in her mind sometimes, ghostly echoes that only reminded her of what she'd lost. Instead of trying to make new friends, she shut herself away, finding solace only in places where no one else dared to intrude.

Her new home was large, the kind of place that felt more like a museum than a home, with cold marble floors and heavy, looming chandeliers. There was no warmth here, no real sense of family. She had a room filled with expensive toys and fancy clothes, but they felt foreign to her, like they belonged to someone else. Every day, the maid would bring her meals, knocking politely before entering. And every day, Crystal would eat alone, the silence at the table a sharp contrast to the noisy dining hall she'd known at the orphanage. The loneliness weighed on her, like a thick, unshakable fog.

At first, she'd tried to approach her new family, her hesitant attempts at connection reaching out like fragile threads. She remembered sitting across from her adoptive parents, trying to join in their conversations. But they were always busy—either talking about business or events she wasn't part of, their voices steady and practiced, the way people speak when they're used to being listened to. Crystal quickly learned that they weren't interested in her stories or her day, and any questions she asked were met with vague smiles and distracted nods.

The rejection stung, and each brush-off built another wall around her, one she kept reinforcing day after day. They don't want you here, a voice whispered in her mind, You're just another addition to their perfect little life. Just another accessory.

So she retreated into herself, hiding her emotions behind a mask of indifference. The few times she passed her adoptive father in the halls, she kept her gaze down, her footsteps light, trying to be invisible. She began seeking out forgotten corners of the mansion: the dusty attic filled with cobwebs and old trunks, the narrow spaces under the grand staircase where she could sit, knees to her chest, surrounded by darkness. These places became her sanctuary, safe from the prying eyes of adults and the judgment she felt radiating from her adoptive father.

Her solitude turned into a shield, something she could control, unlike the unpredictable relationships she'd once had. Friends, she decided, were too risky. Friendship could be taken away. Even affection felt dangerous now; it could evaporate in an instant, leaving her with nothing. She built walls of mistrust, reinforced them every day, reminding herself that this hollow family couldn't hurt her if she didn't let them in.

Yet, every night, as she lay in her bed, the darkness pressed in, bringing memories of the orphanage—the warmth of friends who genuinely cared, the simple pleasure of sharing secrets, the bond she'd once shared with people who were now out of reach. The loneliness she had chosen as her armor now felt like a prison, but she didn't know how to break free from it. Instead, she hid her pain, letting her heart grow colder with each passing day.

To her adoptive father, she was the picture of a perfect, polite daughter. She greeted them when spoken to, thanked them for their gifts, and never once complained. But inside, she was numb, like a statue—a fragile imitation of the warmth she'd once known. And the walls she'd built around her heart grew stronger, until even she wasn't sure if anyone could ever reach her again.

Then she heard that they were moving.

Meanwhile, (Your name) was a different story. The man who adopted her arrived at the orphanage in a sleek black suit, his demeanor calm yet commanding. To (Your name), his presence seemed to envelop the entire room, and she knew he wasn't there to offer comfort or warmth. When he extended a hand, saying, "Come with me," Marcy instinctively recoiled.

She didn't want a new family, let alone one that was tied to this mysterious, powerful figure. She felt trapped, as if a cage had closed around her without warning. In an act of rebellion, (Your name) snatched a knife from the orphanage kitchen, holding it in a firm grip as she stared defiantly into the man's cold eyes. If he thought she'd become his "servant" without a fight, he was wrong. She'd rather face pain than be bound to this stranger's will.

But the man—CEO of a large conglomerate—didn't flinch. Instead, he observed her carefully, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. (Your name)'s fiery spirit intrigued him. He saw potential, something beyond the typical obedience he encountered daily. So instead of punishing her or walking away, he chose to make her his official daughter, finding in her a kindred spirit who would one day understand the world he ruled.

From that day forward, his right-hand man, Sean Myung, was assigned to guide her. Sean was always present, a shadow who never interfered but somehow always knew when to step in. He taught her patience, skill, and strategy, offering her the tools to navigate the world her new "father" inhabited. Through Sean, she learned the secrets of power and the art of influence, each lesson shaping her into someone her adoptive father could trust.

Years later, (Your name) grew curious about her past. One day, as she sat in the expansive library of her father's mansion, she couldn't shake the memories of her time in the orphanage. Those fleeting moments of laughter and friendship had been replaced with the cold reality of her new life, and she felt an ache in her heart for the connections she had lost.

"Sean," she called, her voice echoing softly against the walls lined with books. He appeared a moment later, his ever-reliable presence bringing her a small measure of comfort.

"Yes, (Your name)?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Do you remember Crystal?" she asked hesitantly, the name almost foreign on her tongue. "The girl from the orphanage?"

Sean's expression shifted slightly, his brows furrowing in thought. "I remember her, yes. She was quite the quiet one in your stories. Why do you ask?"

"I've just been thinking about her lately," (Your name) admitted, her gaze drifting to the window where the sun was setting, casting golden hues across the room. "I wonder how she's doing. What if she needs help?"

Sean paused, giving her a measured look, clearly contemplating his words. "It's been a long time since you last saw her. Things may have changed for both of you."

"I know, but I can't help but feel like I left something behind," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I want to reach out, to know if she's okay. Can you help me find her?"

"Let me speak with your father first," Sean replied, his tone shifting to a more serious one. "It's a significant request."

(Your name) didn't know what he meant, but nodded, her heart pounding in anticipation as Sean left the room. Moments later, he returned with her father, a tall figure whose presence seemed to fill the space around him. He wore a tailored suit, the lines of authority etched into his features. (Your name) stood straighter, knowing this conversation was crucial.

"(Your name)," her father began, his tone neutral, "I hear you wish to locate Crystal."

"Yes, Dad. I want to see her again," (Your name) said, her determination clear. "It's important to me."

Her father studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her sincerity against the backdrop of their complicated history. "Very well," he said finally, nodding slowly. "But first, prove yourself worthy."

(Your name) felt her heart drop slightly, but she pushed through the momentary disappointment. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You're in a world that demands strength and capability," he said, his voice firm. "If you wish to pursue this connection with Crystal, you must demonstrate that you can handle the responsibilities that come with it. This isn't just about nostalgia; it's about understanding your place in this world."

(Your name) swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do I need to do?"

"You'll have to complete a task," he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone. "Something that will test your skills and prove that you're ready to engage with people outside of our circle."

"What kind of task?" she asked, her curiosity piqued but laced with anxiety.

"There's a rival company that has been causing us trouble," he said, crossing his arms. "I need you to infiltrate their operation and gather information. Show me that you can handle yourself in a difficult situation, and I will consider your request to find Crystal."

(Your name)'s heart raced. She had been trained in various skills, but the idea of stepping into enemy territory was daunting. "And if I succeed?"

"Then I will help you find Crystal," her father stated simply. "But remember, failure is not an option. This is about more than just her; it's about your future in this family."

(Your name) nodded, determination surging through her veins. "I'll do it. I won't let you down."

"Good," he replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I expected nothing less from you."

As her father turned to leave, Sean stepped closer to her, his expression earnest. "(Your name), be careful. This is a serious undertaking. You'll need to rely on everything you've learned."

"I will, Sean. I promise," she said, her resolve strengthening. "I'm ready for this."

"Then let's prepare," he said, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I'll help you get ready."

-

With that, (Your name) felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. She was determined to find Crystal, not just for herself but to reclaim a part of her past that she had long thought lost. And perhaps, in proving her worth, she would finally forge a path toward the future she had always wanted—a future where she wouldn't have to hide behind walls of isolation any longer.

Her father didn't waste time. He quickly briefed her on the mission. "You need to dismantle a gang that has been a thorn in my side for too long," he said, his voice steady. "They're notorious for trafficking in secrets and shadows. They often evade law enforcement and interfere with my business operations. I need someone who can go undercover, gain their trust, and gather information."

(Your name) listened intently, her heart racing at the thought of taking on such a daunting task. "How do I get close to them?" she asked, determination etched on her face.

"Start by locating their base of operations," her father instructed. "They have a club on the outskirts of town that serves as their front. Once you're in, you'll need to blend in, learn their routines, and identify key members. I expect a full report upon your return."

"And if things get dangerous?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"Trust your instincts, and remember your training," he replied. "You've been prepared for this moment. Just be careful; they can be ruthless."

(Your name) nodded, feeling the weight of the challenge settle on her shoulders. "I won't let you down, Dad. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good. You leave tonight," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Sean will help you get ready."

As she turned to leave, she felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was her chance to prove herself and, ultimately, to find Crystal. But she knew that the path ahead would not be easy.

Once in her room, she found Sean waiting for her, armed with a stack of gear and a determined expression. "Ready for this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have to be," she replied, a fierce glint in her eyes. "I want to find Crystal. I want to do this."

Sean nodded, a hint of admiration in his gaze. "Okay, let's get you equipped. You'll need a disguise and a few tools. The key is to stay unnoticed. They won't take kindly to outsiders."

As they prepared, Sean helped her pick out a sleek black outfit that blended into the shadows. "This will help you move freely," he said, tossing her a lightweight tactical vest. "And here are some essentials—lockpicks, a small camera, and a way to communicate with me."

(Your name) took the gear, her hands trembling slightly. "What if I can't do it?" she asked, vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Sean paused, locking eyes with her. "You can do this. You're strong, and you've trained for moments like these. Just remember why you're doing it. For Crystal. For yourself."

His words resonated deep within her, reigniting her determination. "You're right. I can't back down now."

As night fell, (Your name) slipped out of the mansion and into the city's underbelly. The streets were alive with the sounds of distant music and laughter, but she kept her focus sharp, heading towards the club that served as the gang's base. The neon lights flickered overhead as she approached, her heart pounding in her chest.

The club was a large, dimly lit building pulsating with energy. She could hear the thumping bass of music and laughter spilling out into the night. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the entrance, her senses heightened as she stepped into the chaotic atmosphere.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the scent of alcohol. People danced and mingled, oblivious to the world outside. (Your name) scanned the room, her eyes searching for any sign of the gang members. She spotted a group huddled around a table in the corner, their demeanor shifting from relaxed to guarded as they eyed her.

"Stay cool, (Your name)," she whispered to herself. "You're just one of them."

She made her way to the bar, ordering a drink to blend in. As she leaned against the counter, she observed the gang members, trying to pick up on their conversations. They spoke in hushed tones, glancing around as if expecting someone to overhear.

"Do you think he'll show?" one of the men asked, his voice low.

"Who knows? But if he does, we better be ready," another replied, a flicker of tension in his eyes.

(Your name)'s heart raced. They were clearly waiting for someone important. This was her chance. She needed to dig deeper and find out what they were up to.

After a few minutes of eavesdropping, she noticed a woman approach the gang table—a striking figure with an air of confidence. She exuded authority and demanded attention without saying a word.

"That must be their leader," (Your name) thought, her instincts kicking in. "I need to find a way to get closer."

Taking a deep breath, she decided to make her move. Approaching the table with feigned confidence, she introduced herself. "Hey, I'm new in town. Mind if I join you?"

The gang members exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. The woman looked her up and down, then smirked. "Sure, why not? We could use some fresh faces around here."

As (Your name) settled in, she felt the thrill of the mission course through her veins. She was closer to uncovering the secrets she needed—and closer to finding Crystal.

"Let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up," she thought, ready to prove her worth.

It was during this mission that she encountered Gun Park, an unexpected ally of her enemies, defending the very gang she'd been ordered to eliminate. They clashed in a deserted warehouse, the air thick with tension as they matched each other move for move. Marcy fought with everything she had, adrenaline surging through her, but the weight of her father's cryptic words loomed heavily in her mind. "Do you know what happened to Crystal?" His voice echoed in her thoughts, leaving her uneasy and desperate for answers.

In the midst of their duel, Gun noticed her hesitation and abruptly halted, tilting his head as if reading her thoughts. He was perceptive, far more so than she had anticipated. His maniacal grin turned into a knowing smirk played on his lips, breaking the silence.

"Hey, what's with that look? You're holding back," he taunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "This isn't a sparring match; it's a fight."

(Your name) gritted her teeth, pushing through her inner turmoil. "What did your father mean by that?" she blurted, barely able to keep the anxiety from her voice. "Does he mean Crystal... Is she dead?"

Gun's expression shifted, softening as he looked at her. The taunting glint in his eyes faded, replaced by an understanding she hadn't expected. "Nah, she's not dead," he said finally, his tone more serious. "But she's in deep, tangled up in some stuff you might not understand yet."

A wave of relief washed over (Your name), but her heart continued to race. "So... she's safe?" she pressed, searching his eyes for confirmation.

Gun raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "You know Crystal?" he asked, studying her carefully.

(Your name) looked away, her expression carefully neutral, but the way her heart quickened gave her away. Crystal was more than just a memory; she was the last link (Your name) had to her former life, a reminder of the innocence she'd left behind.

"Yeah, I know her," Gun said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's been through some rough shit. Trust me, you're not the only one who's had it tough."

"Then why is she involved with those people?" (Your name) asked, frustration creeping into her voice. "What do they want with her?"

Gun stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You're caught in something bigger than you realize, Marcy. If you want answers, you'll have to keep digging. But don't underestimate the danger. The world your father operates in? It's darker than you might be ready for."

(Your name) nodded, absorbing his words, the gravity of the situation settling in. "I can handle it," she replied, though doubt crept into her mind.

"Sure you can," Gun said, a hint of admiration creeping into his tone. "But you're gonna need to be smarter than just swinging fists. Use your head as much as your fists. Otherwise, you'll end up getting hurt—maybe even worse than that."

For the first time, as she stared into his eyes, Marcy began to wonder if she was truly prepared for the truth that lay ahead. The weight of Gun's words resonated within her, and in that moment, she felt the fragile threads of her past tighten around her, binding her to both Crystal and the dangerous path she was now on.