The bus ride back from Dongducheon felt endless. Outside the grimy window, shadows of trees and flickering street lamps streaked by, but Chaeyoung barely noticed. Her mind replayed the moment the door swung open, revealing Yoona's startled face.
"You—are you adopted?"
The words echoed cruelly in her head. Sharp, blunt, Chaeyoung's hallmark. But here, in the cold reality beyond Dulwich, such words cut deeper than intended. There were no applause, no judges to impress. Only silence, cold and heavy.
She wrapped her coat tighter, seeking comfort from the chill. Joon sat beside her, eyes fixed on a half-empty coffee can. Neither spoke. The weight of unspoken truths filled the space between them, louder than the bus engine's hum.
Chaeyoung wanted to shake the feeling that everything was unraveling faster than she could control. But more than anything, she wanted to know the truth—about Yoona, about Yeojin, about the tangled past she'd spent years trying to bury.
"Did you see her?" Joon finally broke the silence, voice low.
Chaeyoung didn't answer. She didn't want to admit that the girl she'd cast out of school—humiliated in front of everyone—was now the closest thing she had to a lead on her lost sister.
***
The door slammed with a finality that echoed in Yoona's chest long after Chaeyoung walked away.
Chaeyoung.
The name tasted bitter. A reminder of the public shame, the betrayal. The girl who had the power to ruin her, and did.
Yoona watched the darkened street, the fading figure of Chaeyoung swallowed by night. Why now? After all this time? Why come knocking on a door she thought forever closed?
Inside, Minseo's quiet breathing filled the house—a fragile innocence Yoona had sworn to protect. She wiped her trembling hands on her sweatshirt and retreated to the shadows.
Her mind swirled with questions. Was Chaeyoung here to gloat? To tear apart what little Yoona had rebuilt?
Or was she searching for something else?
***
High above the city, Jaehwan stared out at Seoul's endless glow. His penthouse was a fortress, a world away from the streets and secrets below.
But nothing felt safe anymore.
No messages from Joon. No updates from Chaeyoung.
He poured a glass of water and paused as his phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
"Be careful what you look into. Some things are meant to stay buried."
The message was a warning. Or a threat.
Jaehwan's mind raced. The President's daughter, the car accident, the orphanage in Dongducheon—it was all connected, but how deep did the rabbit hole go?
***
_Flashback_
Curled in Jongnan's arms, Eunji whispered words of affection. Love. Perhaps real, perhaps a lie woven for convenience.
She played the game well—charming, sweet, innocent on the surface. But beneath it was strategy. Jongnan was her key to power, to influence.
Her thoughts flickered to a file she'd glimpsed once—a name she never forgot: Kim Yeojin. Transferred. Disappeared.
What if Yeojin was still out there? What if the past she tried to bury was catching up?
A plan began to form. An old friend might have answers.
***
Watching Chaeyoung walk ahead, Joon felt the tension tighten between them.
"That wasn't your sister," he said softly.
She didn't slow.
"But it might have been," Chaeyoung murmured.
The subway station loomed ahead, cold and impersonal.
"Yoona's hiding something. Did you see how she froze? That kid she sent away... what if—"
"She's adopted," Chaeyoung interrupted, voice harsh. "Like Yeojin was. But she's not Yeojin. Too much like me. Too angry."
Joon's brow furrowed.
"Maybe she hates you because she's scared."
"She hates me because I chased her away. Because I had the power."
For a brief moment, her icy facade cracked. "If she is my sister... then I've already failed her twice."
***
Scrolling through his phone, Jongnan felt the luxury around him was a thin veil.
Eunji's strange behavior gnawed at him. She mentioned Dongducheon once, a child, a hospital linked to his father's old projects.
His gut twisted.
He hated puzzles, but this one was unraveling under his fingers. And it wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
***
When the house finally fell silent, Yoona crept to the laundry room.
From beneath the sink, she pulled out a dusty box.
Inside: yellowed photographs, letters, scraps of a life she barely understood.
One photo showed a little girl—Yeojin. Her name scribbled on the back.
Yoona's fingers trembled as she clutched the picture.
Who was she? And why did she look like Yoona?
The orphanage had lied. Hidden something.
She wasn't Yeojin—but maybe, just maybe, she knew where Yeojin had gone.
***
Back in her dorm room, Chaeyoung stared out at the drifting clouds.
Joon had slipped her a crumpled note from the orphanage files—a name, an address, a number: #442 – Decommissioned Transfer.
There was another child.
Not Yoona.
The truth wasn't in Dongducheon.
It was deeper.
Darker.
And no matter the cost, Chaeyoung would find it.
Even if it broke her.
The dorm room felt suffocating.
Chaeyoung dropped her bag by the door and paced. Her mind was a storm—frustration, confusion, anger, and beneath it all, a raw ache.
Joon's quiet presence on the bed was a reminder that she wasn't alone in this search, but it didn't ease the gnawing inside her.
She finally slumped onto her desk chair and opened the crumpled papers Joon had slipped her—a list of names, dates, addresses. The orphanage had been sloppy, but the trail was cold, scattered, like ashes in the wind.
"There's another child," Joon had said. Another lead. Another chance.
But what if that chance was just another dead end?
Her phone buzzed. A message from Jaehwan.
"Watch your back."
Chaeyoung scowled. His warning was an icy dagger she didn't want but needed.
The game had changed. It wasn't just about finding her sister anymore. It was about survival.
***
Joon stood just beyond the window, watching the flickering light behind the curtains.
Chaeyoung was tough, a fortress—but even fortresses have cracks.
He wanted to tell her everything he knew—the tangled secrets about his mother, the strange calls he overheard, the strange men who had started asking questions about Yeojin.
But she wasn't ready.
Not yet.
So he stayed silent.
For now.
***
The house was quiet except for the soft breathing of her little sister, Minseo.
Yoona sat cross-legged on the floor, the old photograph clutched in her shaking hands.
Her eyes traced the smile of the girl who wasn't her—but maybe was.
Questions flooded her.
Why had the orphanage hidden the truth?
Who was she really?
Why did her heart pound when she thought about Chaeyoung's cold stare, the way she looked at her like a puzzle to solve?
Fear gripped her—a fear not of Chaeyoung's power, but of what truths might come to light.
***
Jaehwan's phone buzzed again. Another anonymous message.
"Stop digging or you'll regret it."
His jaw clenched. This was no longer a game.
He was tied to this in ways he hadn't imagined. The President's family, the orphanage, the 'accident'—all connected in a web he was only beginning to understand.
His hand hovered over the phone.
Was it time to pull Chaeyoung deeper into the storm—or protect her from it?
***
In the glossy apartment filled with designer clothes and silent secrets, Eunji dialed a number she hadn't called in years.
"Minji, it's Eunji."
There was a pause.
"I need you to find out everything you can on Kim Yeojin."
She didn't wait for an answer.
The past was catching up, and Eunji intended to be ahead of it.
***
Jongnan sipped his drink, eyes narrowed at the news playing on muted television.
A girl had gone missing near Dongducheon.
No one was talking about it publicly, but Jongnan felt the ripple. The faint tremor beneath the surface of their perfect lives.
He tapped his phone.
"Stay alert."
The game was no longer about school or status. It was about secrets long buried—and what would happen when they finally surfaced.
***
Chaeyoung lay in bed, the ceiling blurring.
She thought about the girl in the doorway—Lim Yoona—the mole, the hatred, the cold dismissal.
She isn't my sister.
But...
What if she is?
What if the real Yeojin was gone—lost to something darker?
The thought squeezed her heart tight.
Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would dig deeper.
Because some secrets refused to stay buried.