It was during one of those rare evenings when her uncle was sitting at the dining table with the Su brothers, the air filled with soft laughter and clinking dishes. Jiho stood to the side, watching the scene unfold with a distant sense of gratitude. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. Or so she thought.
A faint rustling behind her broke her reverie. She turned slightly, her gaze catching the hesitant figure of a servant standing a few paces away. The woman's eyes were wide, filled with an urgency that immediately set Jiho on edge. Slowly, almost hesitantly, the servant reached out and gently tugged at her sleeve. It was such a small gesture, yet it felt like the ground shifting beneath her feet.
"What is it?" Jiho whispered, keeping her voice low, wary of disturbing the fragile calm of the room.
The servant leaned in, her voice a barely audible murmur in Jiho's ear. "Ms. Jiho, I'm sorry, but... it's your mother. She found out… she knows you're here."
