Lu Manman's breath hitched, raw and thin in the cool air. The System's warning echoed in her mind: "Hidden variables detected. Path divergence initiated. System core functions temporarily restricted." Restricted. What did that even mean? Was it a threat? A warning? Her hands clenched, nails digging into her palms. Mrs. Chen’s casual lie, the cached message – 'Mdm. S: pkg ready by 0800. Meet drop. No mistakes. Confirmed.' – solidified into a cold, hard knot of fear in her stomach. Package. Her children.
She stormed out of the mansion’s back door, the ornate iron gate groaning on rusty hinges. The sprawling garden, meant to be a manicured paradise, was a wilderness. Knee-high weeds choked the stone paths, rose bushes sprawled untamed, their thorns snagging at the air. Neglect. It screamed neglect, a visceral accusation that clawed at Lu Manman's throat. This was Han Min-seo’s world, a world she now inhabited, and the decay mirrored the rot she was uncovering.
“Han Seul!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “Ji-hoon!”
The sound was swallowed by the sheer expanse, by the rustling leaves of ancient oaks that had seen too much. She scanned the dense shrubbery, the shadowed arbours, the forgotten pond where lily pads fought for dominance. Every shadow seemed to hide something, every silence felt like a deliberate deception. She ran, her expensive silk robe flapping around her ankles, the soft slippers ill-suited for the uneven terrain. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the ticking clock she couldn't see but could feel.
She had to find them. Before '0800'. Before Madam Song's 'drop'. The thought spurred her faster, a desperate urgency that burned away the last vestiges of Han Min-seo's inherited apathy. This wasn't about System points or tasks anymore. This was about saving her children from a fate she was meant to engineer. Her eyes darted, searching for any sign, any misplaced toy, any flash of color that shouldn't be there. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage.
“Xiao Yue! Ji-hoon!” The names tore from her, raw with an unfamiliar emotion. Panic, yes, but something else too, a fierce protectiveness that felt both alien and deeply, profoundly her own. The vastness of the estate suddenly felt less like a symbol of wealth and more like a labyrinth, designed to lose things, to lose children. The morning mist still clung to the taller trees, creating spectral shapes. She had to break through the silence, to pierce the shroud of indifference that had settled over this place. She wouldn’t fail them. Not again.
---
Lu Manman paused, hand pressed against her chest, breath heaving. The silence stretched, vast and unnerving, broken only by the distant caw of a crow. Her ears strained, trying to distinguish the whispers of the wind from anything more substantial. The System's hum, usually a subtle background presence, had faded, leaving her terrifyingly alone with her thoughts and the crushing weight of her new reality.
Then, a sound. Barely there, thin and fragile, like a wounded bird. A whimper.
It came from deeper within the garden, beyond a tangle of overgrown jasmine and forgotten rose bushes that formed a wall of thorny greenery. A section of the estate she hadn’t explored yet, even in her frantic search. It was a darker patch, where the sunlight struggled to penetrate, where the air felt cooler, heavier. Lu Manman pushed through the thorny barrier, ignoring the scrapes on her arms, the tugging at her robe. Each step was cautious, a primal instinct overriding her usual pragmatic approach.
The whimper came again, a little clearer this time, unmistakably human. Small. Fragile.
She moved around a weeping willow, its long, slender branches draped like a mournful curtain. And there, tucked into the hollow formed by its trunk and a cluster of dense ferns, was a small, hunched figure. It was so still, so carefully hidden, that for a moment, Lu Manman questioned if her eyes were playing tricks on her. A child. It was a child, curled into a tight ball, almost swallowed by the shadows and the foliage.
Her heart leaped, a violent jolt that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. One of them. She had found one of them. A wave of relief, so potent it made her knees weak, washed over her, quickly followed by a fresh surge of indignation. How long had they been here? Why were they hiding? The questions hammered at her, but she pushed them back, focusing only on the small, vulnerable form. The whimper had stopped, replaced by a soft, shuddering breath.
---
Lu Manman crept forward, each step deliberate, as if approaching a skittish wild animal. She didn’t want to startle the child further. The air around the willow tree felt stagnant, heavy with unspoken sadness. As she drew closer, the details solidified, each one a fresh twist to her gut.
It was Xiao Yue. Her youngest daughter. Her small, slender frame was swaddled in a thin, mud-stained nightgown, too light for the chill of the morning. Her usually neat, dark hair was matted with leaves and twigs, plastered to her temples with what looked like sweat and tears. One tiny hand was clutched tightly to her chest, gripping a tattered, cream-colored teddy bear, its single button eye staring blankly into the undergrowth. The bear looked as neglected as the garden itself.
Xiao Yue’s face was streaked with dirt and dried tears, leaving faint, muddy trails across her pale cheeks. Her lower lip trembled, bitten raw, and her eyes, when she finally lifted them, were swollen, red-rimmed, and filled with a profound, desolate fear. They were too wide for her small face, reflecting a terror that felt ancient, far beyond her seven years. The sight of her daughter, so small and fragile, reduced to this state, pierced Lu Manman’s chest with an unfamiliar, sharp pain.
This was what neglect looked like. This was the consequence of Han Min-seo’s indifference, of the Original Plot that she was meant to embody. The immaculately clean, unused rooms in the mansion flashed through her mind, starkly contrasting with the grubby, trembling child before her. The disconnect was sickening. She felt a burning shame, a phantom guilt from a past she hadn't lived, but which was now irrevocably her own.
A sudden, fierce resolve hardened her jaw. This was not how it would end. This child would not be a 'package'. This child would not be abandoned. Lu Manman crouched down slowly, trying to make herself less imposing, her own breathing ragged. She needed to reach her, to reassure her, to pull her out of this silent, shivering despair. The desperation to bridge the chasm between them was almost physical, a yearning she hadn't known she possessed.
---
“Xiao Yue?” Lu Manman’s voice was barely a whisper, soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the sharp commands she'd used in her previous life. She extended a hand slowly, palm open, a gesture of peace. The child flinched, pulling her knees tighter to her chest, burying her face further into the teddy bear’s stained fur. Her body trembled, a tiny leaf caught in a strong wind.
“It’s… it’s okay,” Lu Manman stammered, feeling awkward, utterly out of her depth. She, who had navigated cutthroat corporate boardrooms and manipulated multinational deals, found herself completely disarmed by the raw, unspoken fear of a seven-year-old. How did one comfort a child who looked at her with such profound terror? The System hadn't prepared her for this, no task for 'emotional connection with traumatized child'.
She kept her hand extended, unwavering, a silent promise. “Mommy’s here. You’re safe.” The words felt hollow, a lie she was desperate to make true. Was she safe? Not if Madam Song had her way. Not if the Original Plot remained unchecked. The very idea of safety felt like a cruel joke in this house, in this overgrown garden that had become a prison.
Xiao Yue slowly, cautiously, raised her head again. Her eyes, still wide and red, darted around, as if expecting something to spring from the shadows. She didn’t look at Lu Manman’s face, but rather at her outstretched hand, then down at the muddy nightgown, as if ashamed. A fresh tear tracked a clean path through the grime on her cheek.
Lu Manman forced a gentle smile, though her heart was fracturing inside her chest. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go inside. I’ll make you hot chocolate. With lots of marshmallows.” It was a cliché, a desperate grab at any symbol of childhood comfort she could remember. She needed to show her, not just tell her. She needed to earn her trust, to dismantle years of neglect in mere moments. The weight of that task felt heavier than any corporate takeover.
“Are you hurt, baby?” Lu Manman asked, her voice thick with unshed tears. She longed to pull the child into her arms, to hold her, to shield her from whatever horrors had brought her to this hiding place. But she dared not, not when Xiao Yue’s fear was so palpable, so deeply ingrained. The chasm remained, wide and terrifying.
---
Lu Manman edged a fraction closer, her hand still outstretched, palm up. The sunlight, finally piercing through the willow’s canopy, cast a dappled light on Xiao Yue’s small face, highlighting the tremor in her chin. The child’s eyes, fixed for a moment on Lu Manman’s hand, seemed to flicker with a tiny spark of something, perhaps curiosity, perhaps a fragile hope. Lu Manman held her breath, willing the connection to form.
She leaned in, just slightly, her voice barely audible. “Come on, sweetie. It’s okay now. Mommy will protect you.” The words were a vow, a desperate promise forged in the heat of her newfound resolve. The world could try to take them, the System could issue its warnings, but she would stand in the way. She would be a shield.
Xiao Yue’s gaze shifted, her head tilting almost imperceptibly. For a split second, Lu Manman thought she saw the flicker of a question, a nascent trust forming in those swollen eyes. A tiny gasp of hope escaped Lu Manman’s lips. She moved her hand another inch, ready to finally bridge the distance, to offer the warmth and security the child so desperately needed.
But then, with a sharp, sudden movement that sent a fresh jolt of terror through Lu Manman, Xiao Yue flinched violently, recoiling as if from a strike. Her small body convulsed, pulling back so sharply her head hit the willow trunk with a soft thud. Her wide, fearful eyes were no longer on Lu Manman’s hand, but fixed, unwavering, on something just over her shoulder.