Hahm Yunhee is home. A place of safety. A place of comfort. And yet, a large segment of her heart is missing, left behind in an unreachable world.
Park Jimin is trapped in a parallel universe, fighting for survival while striving to find a way back...
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Present Day
Footsteps slapped against solid tarmac, fracturing the skin of the woman's bare feet as she ran along the desolate street.
Behind her, a late-night drunk caterwauled at her skimpy dress and kicked a bottle against a fire hydrant, but her brain urged her to keep moving like her life depended on it.
Someone's life did depend on it.
She did not stop. Not even for the approaching car blaring its horn and the blinding headlights that obscured her vision. The vehicle swerved and bumped the pavement, but she pushed on, her eyes focused on the club in the distance.
It was her safe haven. Her refuge. Her one and only goal.
It wasthe House of Cards.
*
Two weeks.
Two God damn weeks and not a single word. It wasn't uncommon for a mafia boss to go missing. He'd heard many horror stories from around the globe of men from powerful families vanishing off the face of the planet, their bodies never to be found.
The downside of being part of the mafia, he concluded.
But in this case, it was different.
His boss, his oldest friend, his companion, was not dead - he knew he wasn't - and after countless days of searches leading to nothing but a dead end, he was still determined to get to the bottom of his mysterious departure.
His eyes scanned the tiny black print of the newspaper on the office bureau, analysing every story, every detail, every scrap of information the media provided.
There was nothing.
Leaning back in his chair, he glided his fingers through his raven hair, resting his palm on his high forehead as he stared at the Henri Matisse painting on the opposite wall.
He smiled and picked up his glass of Scotch. The depiction of a calm woman reading was his friend's favourite piece of art, a tribute to the mother who'd died a tragic death at the hands of her corrupt husband.
Ironic when his disappearance involved a woman he'd snatched from his greatest enemy.
Was the mouthy little sprite still with him? Were they together somewhere?
With a humourful scoff, he took a swig of his drink and shook his head.
No way in hell. Those two would kill each other before spending a minute in each other's company.
Picking up the newspaper, he whipped the pages to stand to attention before letting his eyes roam the endless articles.
'Come on, Jimin. Where are you?'
*
The woman fell against the entrance, her nails scratching the dappled wood as she fought to remain upright.
