The Firefly in the Sun's Shadow
My name is Lee Heena. I'm blood of the mighty Yangho Group conglomerate, but I've always been a tragic figure, buried in my older sister's shadow, unable to catch even a glimpse of light.
One day, after ages, I finally scored a perfect 100 on a test. So I rushed to show my dad.
“……”
Dad was sitting in his study, reading a book. He turned his head silently at my brag. I followed his gaze. There, lining the walls, were the countless trophies and awards my sister had won. Even one of them outshone my perfect test paper by miles—you could tell at a glance. And if they filled an entire corner of the study... well, no need to say more.
I shrank back, head bowed, and slipped out of the study without a word.
“Why'd you go to Dad's study?”
I ran into my sister. I hid the test paper behind my back. In the face of her sun-like achievements, mine was less than a firefly's glow.
“Hmph. Why hide it? I know exactly what it is.”
“Sis…”
“What, got a perfect score and came to show off?”
“N-no, that's not…”
“Not what?”
She jabbed my chest.
“How many screw-ups have you pulled? You think one test makes up for them?”
“Ugh…”
I couldn't say a word, just hung my head. I knew it too. I'd broken vases and dishes multiple times by bumping into them, lost my phone twice. Those were just the ones that came to mind—others didn't even bear mentioning.
“Move.”
I stepped aside wordlessly. She strode past with confident steps and entered Dad's study. Soon, laughter rang out.
“Hic…”
I collapsed weakly. Tears splashed onto the perfect test paper, smearing the ink.
I just wanted to see Dad smile. Hear one word of praise. Earn his approval. I'd tried so hard, but a firefly's light could never match the sun's. It hurt so much I sobbed quietly.
Time passed, and I grew up. Like with my sister, Dad gave me money and told me to make it grow. But I lost it all. The project I slaved over all night failed, and the stock prices tanked. I knew my sister had to bust her ass to recover what I'd lost, even without seeing it.
Shrunk by her words—“Why are you such a mess?”—Dad suggested golf school abroad.
“Golf school?”
“Yes.”
Golf school. I knew right away. This was him kicking me out. Under the table, I clenched my fists tight. Tears threatened to spill.
“I've arranged Choi Yuna, last year's tournament winner, as your coach. You can handle that much, right?”
I knew it. Just an excuse to shove me away. But... I had no choice.
I switched gears fast. Fine, if that's how it is, I'll make real results.
The Choi Yuna Coach I met in America was pretty wild. Ripped jeans, crop top, cap with weird English scribbles, flashy jewelry.
“#^#^&%^(&@#$”
“Uh... yes?”
I got the hello, but nothing after. When I asked again, she eyed me and repeated.
“Hey? You're Heena, right? Heard you came for golf school?”
“Y-yes…”
“Speak up from now on.”
Her natural blonde hair and exotic looks made her seem mixed-race Western. Her boobs are huge. Arms crossed, blowing bubblegum, she was stunning—but not coach-like at all. I wondered if she was really my coach.
“Let's start right away. You haven't played golf before?”
“No... first time.”
“Doesn't matter to me. I learned from scratch like this too—keep up.”
“Yes…”
“Louder.”
Thankfully, she had real skills. I felt ashamed for judging her on first impressions. But problems piled up. Strange land in America. Strict coach. Brutal training. No one to lean on.
No one to confide in. Coach was tough, and the schedule left no time for friends. Worst, I sucked at English—unlike Sis, who could chat freely with foreigners before ten. Training plus English study ate all my time.
Lonely. Exhausting. But I endured. One goal: world championship win. That trophy weighed more than any perfect test.
Even if Sis was the sun, wouldn't Dad acknowledge that? I chased it relentlessly. Twelve-hour training days. English till my nose bled. I endured. It hurt, but I pushed through.
Was it my effort? I breezed through qualifiers and lifted the winner's trophy. Overnight fame. "Golf goddess," broadcast offers poured in. The bitterness washed away. I smiled brightly for the first time.
“Don't forget the tournament in a month.”
“Got it, Sis.”
Strict coach, but after my world win, she allowed "Sis" casually.
“Go win. Eat lots of good stuff.”
“Will do, Sis.”
This should earn Dad's nod. Not like with real Sis, but enough to prove I'm his daughter—not worthless.
“Hehe…”
Clutching the trophy tight, I returned home after so long. Heart pounding, I knocked softly on Dad's study door and opened it.
“Dad! I won—”
“……Coming home after ages and acting so frivolous.”
“Ah... sorry...”
Dad's vibe was colder than before. Like old times, I shrank, head down.
“Heard about your win.”
I perked up, expecting praise for my pain.
“That's the bare minimum. I've sunk tens of millions of dollars into you.”
“Yes...?”
“And broadcasts too. Heeyeon wouldn't have handled it so lightly.”
“D-Dad...?”
What was he saying? Did I hear right?
“Impressive, sure, but one lucky win and you're out tarnishing the image on TV?”
Not lucky. I worked. Every day agony...
“Even without luck, without family backing, you wouldn't have won. Think that's something? Everyone calling you a prodigy goes to your head? Stupid and tacky.”
“……”
“Tsk tsk. Try matching Heeyeon's toe. She'd win without support. Not just that—she's achieved beyond world wins, stays cautious, no recklessness. But you?”
Sis. Sis. Sis sis. I'm not her. Don't you see?
“Golf win—what's that? Adds nothing to the family. Image boosts short-term, sure. But one slip, and we all sink in scandal. Not good long-term.”
“Dad…”
“Look at you. Grown up, still calling me Daddy like a kid. No thought. Think flashing on camera makes you special?!”
“That's too much…”
Too hurt. Too sad. My feelings slipped out.
“What?”
“I... I suffered so much! But I tried—”
“Think you're the only one suffering? Heart that weak—useless. Obvious what else to say. Out. Don't wanna hear more.”
Dismissed. I left the study limp. Legs gave out after a few steps; I collapsed.
“Hic…”
Pent-up tears flooded. What should I do? What can I do? I repeated it endlessly, sobbing.
“What's up with you suddenly?”
Next tournament, dumb mistake got me out early. To Coach's question, I blamed jet lag.
“Um, Lee Heena? I'm PD Lee Young-hoon from I'm an Athlete. For this season—”
“Sorry. Can't do it.”
“Ah... think it over?”
I trashed his card the second he left.
Next prelim out. Domestic tourney: 21st of 32. Even regional prelim fail. Dad said that was my true level.
“Ahaha…”
Tears down my cheeks. It's right. This is me. I set the club down weakly.
“Golf goddess? Winner? This is my real skill...”
This was my place. Useless kid. Just lucky family spawn. Without it, trash.
“Hic…”
Miserable. So miserable, just crying—then Dad's call. Golf meet with Taesan Group chairman and execs. Go.
Taesan Group's Mr. Min. I knew him. Dad's intent: transparent, cruel.
I just walked. Hat, sunglasses, mask—to avoid recognition, scandal.
Endless walk, spotted a convenience store. Hungry, grabbed cup ramen. Craved it in America but couldn't. Here, no appetite. Added two soju bottles. Why? Wanted to get wasted, I guess.
Training banned booze—this my first. Bitter. I winced, but then it went down smooth.
Then met a guy. Wow. Handsome. Not drunk haze—I wasn't that sloshed. Tall, built. Celeb? Thought of chatting, but he shoved a weird screen at me.
What... what the hell?!
Sobriety hit hard. Couldn't move a muscle.
Why? Move... move, damn it!
Nothing. What? Kidnapped? Trafficking?
“Chaebol heiress, blowing millions daily, 'golf goddess'—pampered princess. What's hard about your life? If you were me, you'd hang yourself.”
“……That's not it.”
That... wasn't my voice. I didn't even try to speak. It answered against my will. What the hell? He showed his phone screen, and I...
“Stay here.”
“Yes.”
He crossed the crosswalk. Chance! Run now! I felt it. Pushed with all might—nothing. Tried over and over, no step.
Then it hit: my body obeys him blindly.
What... what did I do wrong? Why me?
Against my will, I waited, tears streaming inside.
How long? He returned—with the store manager.
Desperate, I strained. Move! Please move! No control. Not a finger twitched.
“...Be my girlfriend.”
Knew it. This creep planned to use me. Then he said his name. Yun Geon-woo. Human name, but demonic to me.
God, how far will you drop me? Or does God even exist?
Silently cursing God and world, I wept.