chapter 2

The hallways of their elite Seoul school were filled with the chatter of wealthy students, but Kim Ana and Kim Saba moved like ghosts. Despite their "Goddess" beauty, they were surrounded by a wall of silence.

A boy named Jun-ho, the son of a powerful CEO, blocked Ana’s path. He smirked, leaning against her locker. "Hey, maid’s daughter. I’ve decided. You should be my girlfriend. It’s an honor for someone like you."

He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, trying to force a kiss.

Slap.

The sound echoed through the hall. Ana’s hazel-green eyes were cold as ice. "Your touch is a virus," she said, her voice flat. "Get out of my sight."

She walked away without looking back, Saba following close behind with a look of pure fury toward the boy.

The 100 Lashes

When they reached home, the atmosphere was suffocating. Their father, Min-jun, was waiting in the living room, his face purple with rage. Jun-ho’s father had already called him.

"You dared to embarrass me?" Min-jun roared. He lunged forward, grabbing Ana by her long black hair.

"Father, no! It wasn't her fault!" Saba screamed, but her stepmother pushed her into a wall.

"Shut up, you brat!" the stepmother hissed.

Min-jun dragged Ana down to the cold, damp basement. He forced her to the floor and ripped the top of her school uniform away. The hunter's whip—the "hunter"—whistled through the air.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Saba stood in the corner, her body shaking as she watched the blood begin to bloom across Ana’s pale back. "One... two... three..." Min-jun counted with every strike.

Ana gripped the legs of a wooden table, her knuckles white. She didn't scream. She didn't beg. Her 150-IQ brain was busy—she was reciting Japanese kanji in her head to block out the pain.

Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred.

Ana’s back was a map of raw, bleeding wounds. Min-jun stood over her, breathing heavily. He then turned to Saba, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the door.

"No! Let me stay with her!" Saba shrieked, clawing at his hands.

"She stays here for one week. No food. No light," Min-jun growled. He threw Saba out and slammed the heavy iron door, locking it with a deafening clack.

Saba fell to her knees outside the door, sobbing into her hands. "God, if you are there... please. Help us. Please don't let her die."

Four Years Later: The Silent Geniuses

Four years passed in a cycle of blood, silence, and secret brilliance.

Ana was now 14, and Saba was 15. Their beauty had become sharp and dangerous, like a blade. They were forbidden from having friends, so they turned to the only thing their father couldn't take: their minds.

Inside their locked room at night, using stolen books and a hidden laptop, they studied. They didn't just study—they mastered.

"Ana," Saba whispered one night in the dark, her voice now mature but still edged with her trademark anger. "How is your French translation coming?"

"Finished," Ana replied in perfect, fluent French. "And I’ve moved on to the Arabic text you found. The grammar is complex, but logical."

"Good," Saba said, switching to Mandarin Chinese. "Once the brothers return from the US, we need to be ready. We aren't just leaving. We are taking everything."

Ana looked at her sister, her hazel eyes glowing in the moonlight. She responded in Japanese. "Father thinks he is breaking us. He doesn't realize he is just tempering the steel."

They sat together, two sisters who could speak to the world in five different languages—English, Arabic, French, Chinese, and Japanese—but chose to remain silent in the house that was their prison.

The atmosphere in the Kim mansion was suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of expensive incense and the lingering fear of the two sisters. Ana and Saba stood with their heads bowed low, their long black hair shielding their faces like curtains.

The Grandparents sat on the velvet sofa, radiating authority. The Grandfather, a man of cold stone, looked at the girls.

"My friend called me," the Grandfather began, his voice raspy. "He is a scout. He believes you both have the look of idols. Tomorrow, I am taking you to BigHit for an audition."

Min-jun, the father, stood up abruptly. "No! Father, I won't allow it. I don't want them leaving this mansion. They belong here."

The Grandfather slammed his cane on the floor. "I am the head of this house! If I say they go, they go. But listen to me well, girls..." He narrowed his eyes at Ana and Saba. "You will never use our name. To the world, you are nobodies. I want your identities hidden. If anyone finds out you are my granddaughters, I will make sure you never see the light of day again."

The Audition

The next morning, the girls stood before the massive BigHit building. They were accompanied by two stern-faced maids. Their faces were partially hidden by caps and masks, but their aura was impossible to mask.

Inside the audition room, they were like dolls—silent and cold. When the music started, Saba danced with a fiery, aggressive grace, while Ana sang in a voice so haunting and pure it felt like a winter breeze. They spoke their introductions in fluent English and Japanese, shocking the judges.

When they returned to the mansion, they were locked back in their room.

Saba sat on the edge of the bed, her light brown eyes glowing with a spark of hope for the first time in years. "Ana," she whispered. "I think this is it. If we become idols, we can move into a dorm. We can leave. No Father. No stepmother. No whips."

Ana sat on the floor, her back straight despite the lingering pain of her scars. "It’s not easy, Saba. We aren't just leaving a house; we are entering the world. People will stare. They will judge."

"I know," Saba said, her jaw tightening with her usual anger. "But I want to leave this golden cage. I'd rather be a bird in the wind than a prisoner in a palace."

Ana looked at her elder sister, her hazel-green eyes sharp and calculating. "Saba, promise me something."

"What is it, Ana?"

"If we go there," Ana said, her voice like ice, "we don't talk to anybody. Especially not men. If we have roommates, we speak only what is necessary. We never—ever—share our life or our past. The scars on our backs stay under our shirts. Do you understand?"

Saba reached out and grabbed Ana’s hand, squeezing it tight. "I promise. Our past is dead. We are just two strangers now."

The Result

A week later, a black envelope arrived at the mansion. Both girls had passed. They were officially trainees. As they packed their meager belongings, their father stood at the door, his eyes full of malice.

"You think you're escaping?" he hissed at Ana. "You're just going to a bigger stage to fail. And when you do, I’ll be waiting."

Ana didn't look at him. She just adjusted her collar to hide the mole on her upper lip and walked past him, her heart as cold as the Seoul winter.

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