A/N: This chapter features a case of parental favoritism and also alludes to the fate that befell many 'comfort women' during the Second World War.

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Like many other housewives in Seoul, Myung-sook awoke at the crack of dawn, an hour before everybody else, to carry out the duties that had been part of her daily routine since she'd gotten married at the age of eighteen.

She was now thirty-five years of age, with a sixteen-year-old son who was always busy with various schemes, a daughter who was more interested in books than people, and a nine-year-old who was still dependent on her in so many ways.

In addition, her father and mother-in-law were getting on in years and no longer capable of working hard like they'd used to, thus bringing the burden of maintaining the household on her shoulders, while Young-sik and her husband Jeong-nam did all they could to bring in enough money.

She seldom had much time to dally or daydream, with this morning being no exception. There was a small mirror that she always kept by her bed, and she looked into it while combing and fastening her hair into a tight bun.

After stepping over the bodies of the still sleeping Jeong-nam and his parents, she entered the kitchen to rinse her mouth with saltwater and soak a pot of rice for breakfast before heading out to purchase fresh herbs and vegetables at the market.

The first flickers of sunlight on the horizon caught her attention as she changed from slippers to rubber shoes.

Bright yellow and orange rays against a dark sky made for a sight worthy of a painting, but knowing what would happen if she arrived at the market even a couple of minutes late, Myung-sook urged herself to look away.

She would need to beat the usual morning crowd if she was to acquire the ingredients with the best value, so without further ado, she began running to reach her destination even sooner.

******

It was almost mid-morning by the time Myung-sook arrived at a local well to draw some water for her laundry.

In her vicinity, a few other women were already hunched over and hard at work. They paid her no attention, but she still felt a little inadequate while dipping her bucket in the water and making sure not to take too much.

From there, she lugged her bucket away from the well, shuffling across the dusty ground towards where the basket of soiled clothes awaited.

Sweat rolled down her back, and she tried to look on the bright side by reassuring herself that with this unpleasant heat, everything would be dry in just a couple of hours.

She got down on her knees and retrieved her washboard before the sound of gravel being crunched underfoot prompted her to look up. A lone woman stood a few yards away, her styled hair, fair skin, and sundress being enough to raise Myung-sook's eyebrows. 

Classy or wealthy ladies simply didn't wander into the more impoverished areas of Seoul unless they were lost or engaging in dishonest business, so she rose to confront the newcomer. "What are you doing here? Can I help you?"

The lady flinched before composing herself and closing the distance between them. "Yes. There's something I must ask you..."

"Go ahead," Myung-sook replied, despite her own doubts. The scent of the lady's flowery perfume reached her nostrils, and because of this, she couldn't help but wonder if her sweaty state was a source of disgust for such a person.

However, if the lady was bothered by something like that, she clearly wasn't showing it. In fact, the look in her eyes could be even described as pleading as she reached into her purse and pulled out a framed portrait.

"This...this is my daughter Eun-hye," she explained, holding the photograph of a young girl for Myung-sook to see. "Does her face look familiar to you?"

Myung-sook observed the girl's features and noted that in addition to being quite pretty, she possessed an unmistakable resemblance to the lady standing in front of her. They were undoubtedly mother and daughter, and having been reminded of her own bond with fourteen-year-old Young-ja, she now felt compelled to help in some way.

"I cannot say that she does," she answered softly. "But have you thought of going to the police? It's part of their job to find missing-"

"We've already tried." The lady interrupted, her expression becoming pained. "They can't help us without witnesses."

"Witnesses?" Myung-sook asked, growing uncomfortable all over.

"I know someone must have seen Eun-hye that day. We just have to find them..."

The lady gave a sniff and paused to wipe a tear from her eye before continuing weakly. Myung-sook contemplated whether it would be appropriate to touch her in reassurance.

"Would you mind telling me what happened to your daughter?" she spoke up cautiously after deciding against it and opting to keep her hands to herself.

The lady nodded, then resumed speaking. "It...it's been six years. My husband had lost his job, and because of it, we fell on hard times. Eun-hye wanted to help so badly, and one day, she accepted an offer from a munitions factory in Tokyo. We made her promise to write to us each month, but..."

"But what?"

"She never did. Not even once."

"That sounds terrible," was all Myung-sook could bring herself to say.

"I know that you don't recognize her, but is there any chance that you know of someone who was recruiting young girls at the time? Eun-hye told us that there were others..."

Myung-sook wracked her brain for any hearsay or suspicious goings-on that she may have witnessed in the past, but nothing seemed to align with the disappearance of the lady's daughter.

"No, I don't. I'm sorry..." She shook her head in resignation and watched as the lady's hopeful expression faded completely.

The lady tucked the photograph back into her purse with a deep breath. "That...that's alright. I'll ask somebody else. Thank you for your time..."

She stepped aside before striding past Myung-sook and two other women who had raised their heads to listen in on the conversation.

They averted their eyes and pretended to be absorbed in scrubbing clothes, but the act wasn't very convincing.

The lady disappeared between two houses, and it was then that Myung-sook realized they would more than likely never encounter each other again.

With a heavy heart, she knelt down once more to begin washing her son Young-sik's singlet, all the while feeling sorrow for the lady's loss and hoping that there would one day be a breakthrough concerning Eun-hye's whereabouts.

After all, only heaven knew whether she would be able to recover if a similar fate befell Young-ja. The fourteen-year-old was her only daughter and, therefore, precious to a degree that far exceeded her two sons.

For that reason, she decided that in the event of a crisis, Young-ja would be the one she'd protect first, followed by the boys, and finally, her parents-in-law.