Chapter 120: Wrapped in Plastic and Panic

The towel covering her mouth and nose had been drugged. Even biting her tongue hadn't been enough to fight off the sleepiness. Yunice’s vision blurred; her entire body felt limp. Her eyes could barely stay open, just a narrow slit through which she saw blurry shadows moving. She drifted in and out as people lifted and shifted her from place to place.

Eventually, the movement stopped. She seemed to be lying on a couch in some kind of room. Then several people came in, propped her up, and began changing her clothes.

“Why is there blood on her hands? Wait, there’s a needle stuck in her finger!”

Yunice’s pupils shifted faintly beneath her heavy eyelids. She could hear them speaking, but the voices felt far away and distorted, like temple bells.

Someone else chimed in, “Forget it, let’s just get her changed. That’s our only job here.”

“You help her change—I’ll take out the needle. Ten fingers, one heart. This must hurt like hell.”

They moved her again, undressing her. One hand was lifted, then pinched. A sharp pain tore through her fingertip and shot straight to her brain.

She groaned, and the fog in her mind began to clear. She had stuck the needle into herself while barely conscious—right at the center of her fingertip. It was known to snap people out of fainting like nothing else.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, only pretended to still be passed out. One maid was dressing her; the other was bandaging her finger.

“Why do we have to dress her like this?”

“Can’t you tell? She’s being given as a gift. Some man’s gonna come in here soon.”

They worked quickly. Once they were done, one of them said, “Take all the clothes in this room. There aren’t any cameras outside—if she runs, we’ll never find her.”

The rustle of fabric followed. Yunice barely opened her eyes, catching a glimpse of the two maids hurrying out, arms full of clothing.

She lay completely still, listening for any movement outside. Only when she was sure the room was empty did she roll off the couch. The drug still lingered—her limbs had no strength. The moment she rolled, she crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Panicked, she curled up beside the couch, holding her breath to listen for approaching footsteps.

No one came.

She gathered her strength and staggered to the door, gripping the handle. Slowly, she cracked it open just enough to peek through. There was nothing; the hallway was dead silent.

“No cameras outside if she escapes, they’ll never find her…” The maids’ voices echoed in her mind. Her first instinct was to run. But just as she pushed the door further, she hesitated.

3:32 PM

Yunice closed the door, locked it, then dragged furniture in front to barricade it. Still, she knew it wouldn’t hold for long. She scanned the room. As expected, not a single thing she could wear. No sheets. No curtains. Not even a towel. Footsteps sounded faintly from the hall. Panic kicked in again.

She rushed into the bathroom and opened the cabinet—inside, a roll of thick trash bags. Quickly, she unraveled them and wrapped herself up, layer by layer, until the makeshift outfit clung to her like a black sheath dress. The luxury hotel used heavy-duty bags—durable enough not to tear easily.

The scrambling drained her energy, but she could finally move again. Her palms were slick with sweat from the adrenaline. The hallway went quiet again. She approached the door, ready to escape—but just as she reached for the handle, something struck her.

Wait… this isn’t right. If they want to stop me from escaping, why don’t they lock the door? If I’m a gift, why isn’t there a bed in the room? None of this adds up.

She stared at the doorframe like it was a threshold between life and death. After three seconds of hesitation, Yunice went with her gut. She re-locked the door, darted into the bathroom, and locked that door too.

There were only three exits: the hallway door, a massive floor-to-ceiling window, and the bathroom’s ventilation window. Yunice climbed onto the sink and pushed open the vent. She hauled herself up until her torso cleared the ledge, and looked out—only for her heart to sink.

She was at least eighteen floors up. Her stomach churned just looking down. But whoever had put her here clearly meant harm. She couldn’t just sit and wait.

“Dad, please watch over me.” She whispered the prayer in her mind, then began crawling through the narrow opening. The second she pushed her body through, her arm gave out—she almost slipped.