The Inherited Slave/ Kim Taehyung Fanfiction.

10. The Illusion of Freedom

It was almost 9 p.m., and the house had settled into its usual tense quiet after dinner. Y/N stood alone in the kitchen, her hands wrinkled and raw from scrubbing dishes. Her body ached from the day’s labor, but she didn’t dare stop not until every last chore was done.

As she reached for the last dish, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her like a crashing tide. The room spun, and she stumbled, barely catching herself on the edge of the counter. Her vision blurred for a moment, and before she could steady her trembling hands, her elbow nudged a small bowl of chili oil. It tipped, spilling bright red liquid across the floor in a vivid, damning stain.

Y/N froze, her breath hitching in her chest. Her heart pounded wildly as panic set in. She dropped to her knees, frantically trying to clean the mess with her already worn rag. Her fingers shook so violently she could barely hold it. She whispered to herself, a desperate prayer that no one had seen, that maybe, just maybe, she could fix this before anyone noticed.

But her hope shattered when she heard the sharp click of heels on the tiled floor. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Hye Rin stood in the doorway, her face twisted in fury. Her hands were clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. “What did you do?” she hissed, her voice low and venomous, the kind that promised consequences.

Y/N’s body trembled uncontrollably. She kept her head down, pressing the rag against the floor as though scrubbing harder would erase the mistake and the wrath it had summoned. “I—I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” Hye Rin’s voice rose sharply, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “Do you think sorry will clean this up? Do you think sorry will bring back the oil you’ve wasted?”

Y/N bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. She knew better than to cry. Crying only made things worse. Still, the lump in her throat grew, and her vision blurred with unshed tears.

“Get up!” Hye Rin barked, her voice echoing off the walls. “Or do you plan to grovel on the floor all night like the pathetic little thing you are?”

Y/N scrambled to her feet, clutching the rag to her chest like a shield. Her knees wobbled beneath her, and she fought the urge to collapse again. Her entire body screamed with exhaustion, but she kept her head bowed, silently bracing for what would come next.

Hye Rin stepped closer, her eyes blazing. “Clean this up properly,” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. “And when you’re done, I expect the kitchen spotless. Not a single stain, do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaking as she knelt back down.

As Hye Rin stormed out, slamming the door behind her, Y/N exhaled shakily. The kitchen felt colder somehow, the air heavy with tension. She dipped the rag into the bucket, her trembling hands smearing the oil across the floor.

In that moment, Y/N felt smaller than ever, her heart weighed down by the hopelessness of her reality. But even as tears threatened to spill, she pushed them back.

Crying wouldn’t help. It never did.

Y/N knelt on the cold, hard floor, scrubbing desperately at the crimson stain. Her hands moved in frantic circles, the rag slick with the chili oil that seemed to spread rather than disappear. No matter how hard she pressed, how much force she used, the stain only deepened, mocking her efforts.