Part 1

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"When you're surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone."


Fiona Apple


Do you wanna know what my life is like?

Always looking chic, the latest brands.., the most expensive jewelry, dressed like a doll, with my own stylist, my own hairdresser, my own chauffeur even though I have my own driver's license.

My mother, who meticulously makes sure that I don't put on an ounce of weight, my father who locks me in my room so that no scandal appears in the tabloids.

My name is Kim Y/n.... Daughter of a legendary racing driver who owns his own racing team, obsessed with being the best of the best.

I hate my life.

"Miss Kim!" came one of our countless servants into my room.

I snorted in annoyance.... "When are they going to learn to knock?" I muttered as I got ready for my father's annual banquet.

"I'm sorry, but your personal styling team has just arrived and your mother wants you to dress appropriately and wear the right make-up!"

I let myself fall backwards onto my bed, annoyed, angry ....

"Oh, by the way Miss Kim, Mister Yu has just arrived too. He asked me to tell you that he would join you as soon as he can get away from your father."

I rolled my eyes..." Tell Mr. Yu that if he sets one foot in my room, I'll cut his balls off."

"Miss Kim?" I could hear the undertone in her voice.

I took a deep breath and exhaled..." Just tell him to wait where he is right now."

"As you wish!" and she was gone.

Have I mentioned that I hate my life?

It didn't take a minute for my mother to enter my room. With the styling team in tow.

"Put everything here and I want you to do it exactly as I explained. "

I didn't make a move, if I fought my mother, I would only lose anyway.

"Mom, I'm already..."

"Y/n!!! Can you please not lie down on your bed with this dress on?"

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at my mother with a furrowed brow.

"It's just a stupid dress! Nothing important!"

I don't think I've ever seen my mother gasp like that before.

With one hand on her forehead and the other on her left breast, she looked like she was falling over in slow motion.

You know those old movies from the twenties? Yes, just like that ... in slow motion.

"Dior Y/n! Dior! Now get off this bed and get ready!" my mother's fingers around my biceps were harsh.

She tugged me over to the styling team's dressing table and positioned me.

"Mom!" I looked at her annoyed..." I've already done my make-up!"

"That's not a make-up Y/nshi . We'll fix it." My mother made one or two hand movements and the styling team was already busy with my face.

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