Winter’s chest heaved, her breaths ragged as she stood in the empty street, the distant hum of the city a mocking echo around her.

She scanned her surroundings, searching for a way out, but her mind was racing, adrenaline battling exhaustion. After a moment of hesitation, she started to walk, her legs heavy and trembling, the fight draining from her body.

Just as she thought she might have a chance, Mr. Son emerged from a side street, his presence as calm and imposing as always. Behind him, the other men appeared, blocking any hope of escape.

“Miss Winter,” Mr. Son said, his voice low but firm, “I apologize for this. You need to come with us. I am only following Mr. Kim’s orders.”

Winter’s fists clenched, her anger resurfacing in a raw surge. "Orders?" she shouted, her voice echoing in the quiet street. "Is that all you care about? I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Ignoring her, Mr. Son took a step forward, and Winter, in a desperate act, tried to bolt again, but he was too fast. He grabbed her arm mid-stride, spinning her toward a parked car, slamming her against the hood hard enough to knock the air from her lungs but not enough to cause serious injury.

“Let go of me!” Winter yelled, struggling against his iron grip. She thrashed, cursing both him and her father, but Mr. Son’s hold didn't waver, his strength an immovable force.

“Please, stop making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he said, his voice a low rumble, devoid of emotion.

Winter glared up at him, her anger a burning coal, but her strength was no match for his. Moments later, a black SUV pulled up, and Mr. Son, with practiced ease, pushed her inside.

The drive back to the Kim residence was silent, save for Winter’s harsh breaths and the muttered curses that escaped her lips. The towering gates loomed as they approached, the sight filling her with dread and the crushing weight of defeat.

As soon as they stopped, the men opened the door, their hands reaching for her, but Winter shoved them off, her defiance a final act of rebellion before she was swallowed by her fate. She stormed towards the mansion, but her father’s voice stopped her before she could even cross the threshold.

“Go to your room,” Mr. Kim said without looking up from the papers on his desk, his tone dismissive and infuriatingly calm.

Winter froze, her hands balled into fists, glaring at his back. “You—”

“Now,” he interrupted sharply, his voice laced with command.

Her jaw tightened, and she turned and marched upstairs, slamming her door with a force that rattled the frame. She threw herself onto her bed, face-first into the plush pillows, letting out a strangled scream of pure frustration.

She flipped onto her back, kicking her feet weakly as if fighting off invisible chains. “I hate this! I hate him! I hate everything!” she growled, her voice muffled and sharp, a desperate whisper in her luxurious prison.

For now, there was nothing she could do. Winter lay there, her legs still kicking with a last burst of defiance, plotting her next move but knowing, deep down, there was no escape.

_

Two days later, Winter found herself a prisoner in her own home, each move monitored by Mr. Son or another guard. The mansion, once a symbol of her freedom, now felt like a cage. The weight of inevitability pressed down on her with each passing hour.

When morning came, her father's plan was finally enacted. She was escorted to the car, practically shoved inside, and they drove off into the unknown, the world outside a blur of greens and browns as the city buildings faded behind. Winter sat rigid, her arms crossed, refusing to speak, her anger a cold knot in her chest.

Hours passed before they approached a foreboding gate, its metal teeth a grim promise of what awaited. Beyond it, rows of uniformed recruits moved with mechanical precision amidst towering buildings, a jarring contrast to the chaos she was used to. Winter’s stomach twisted, her heart sinking with a mix of fear and anticipation, though she refused to show either.

The car stopped just outside the gate. Her suitcase was unceremoniously tossed onto the dirt, and Mr. Son gestured toward the camp, his face expressionless.

“This is where we part ways, Miss Winter,” he said, his voice flat as he offered a slight bow, a final act of politeness before abandoning her.

Winter’s jaw clenched, her gaze locking on him with a surge of hatred. She grabbed her suitcase, her every muscle screaming in protest, but she knew it was futile. She turned and walked toward the camp, her steps stiff, her pride her only defense.

As she approached, a sea of unfamiliar faces turned to stare. Some recruits stood in formation, their faces pale, others milled around in small, nervous groups. A sigh escaped her lips, her annoyance a thin veil over her growing dread, as she dragged her suitcase toward the reception area. She handed over her papers to the guards, her movements mechanical.

“Name?” one of them barked, his eyes cold.

"Winter Kim," she said flatly, her voice devoid of warmth.

The guard barely glanced at her before demanding, “Hand over your phone.”

Winter stiffened, her anger flaring once more. “I don’t have one,” she lied smoothly, tilting her chin in a practiced display of arrogance.

The guard snorted, his lips curling into a mocking grin. “Really?”

Before she could react, he grabbed her by the collar, shoving her down, her knees hitting the ground with a jolt. “What the hell—!” Winter shouted, but her words were cut short as another guard pressed her face into the dirt, his weight pressing down on her with humiliating ease.

“Welcome to reality, princess,” one of them sneered as they patted her down. When they pulled her phone from her back pocket, he held it up with a mocking grin. “Looks like the spoiled brat lied.”

Winter struggled beneath their grip, her face burning with shame and anger. Laughter erupted around her, sharp and cruel. Her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached, her glare a silent promise of retribution.

“In here, you’re nothing,” the guard hissed before tossing her phone into a nearby bin. He stood, towering over her, his grin a taunt. “Now get up and get in line.”

For a moment, Winter considered lunging at him, the fury nearly boiling over, but a glance at the sea of faces watching her stopped her cold. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of watching her fall apart.

Her fists tightened as she pushed herself up, brushing dirt off her pants, her movements stiff with a mix of rage and humiliation. Her glare didn't waver as she moved toward the back of the line, her head held high, swallowing her pride for now. She'd survive this. She had to.