"He said... it's about your sister."
Chaeyoung's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief passing over her face.
"What does he want to talk about... Yeojin?" She wondered as the guards silently escorted her out of the school grounds.
Inside the black limousine, the world outside blurred past the tinted windows. But inside her head, everything was sharp—chaotic.
"Does he know I went to Dongducheon? Why now? Why bring her up after all these years of pretending she didn't exist?" She mumbled under her breath, her fingers anxiously tracing the edge of her blazer.
Before she could make sense of her thoughts, the car pulled up to the one place she hated more than any other: home. The mansion loomed before her like a gilded cage—one she had never chosen.
At the grand entrance, a maid stood waiting, hands neatly clasped and head slightly bowed.
"Good day, madam. Mr. Park is waiting for you in the study," she said quietly, reaching for Chaeyoung's school bag.
Without a word, Chaeyoung handed it over and stepped inside.
***
The house was as silent as ever, its pristine marble floors echoing beneath her feet. She walked through the endless hallway she knew by heart, but today... it felt different. Like each step stretched the corridor farther. Like the walls themselves were reluctant to let her reach the truth.
With every stride, her chest grew heavier. And by the time she reached the door of the study, her pulse was louder than her footsteps.
Finally reaching her destination, she paused at the study door. The one place no one dared to enter without being summoned.
Her hand hovered over the brass knob. Then, with a calm inhale, she pushed it open.
Park Jongnan didn't look up. Behind his oversized desk, lit only by a desk lamp and the last orange rays of sun, he flipped a document with surgical precision. His cuffs were perfectly rolled. His tie, not a strand out of place.
"You went to Dongducheon," he said, like a verdict.
"I did." Chaeyoung stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her with a soft click. "You said it was urgent."
"You were never meant to know about that place."
"I wasn't meant to know a lot of things," she replied flatly. "Like how my sister disappeared and no one bothered to explain. Or how Mom died in that car crash and you never spoke about it again."
A muscle twitched in his cheek. Barely visible.
He closed the file slowly. "The past is a dangerous place to dwell, Chaeyoung."
"Dangerous?" She echoed. "Or inconvenient?"
"You're being emotional," he said, rising from his seat. "I warned you not to go digging into old ghosts. That girl you met—she's not your sister. She never was."
"She had the mole," Chaeyoung said quietly. "Under her eye. Just like Yeojin."
"Coincidence," he said too quickly. "Adopted children often resemble others. Don't get sentimental."
She stared at him. "Why do you want me to forget her so badly?"
"Because forgetting is survival," he said sharply. "You've been handed power, reputation, a future. You don't throw that away chasing shadows."
Chaeyoung took a step forward. Her voice softened, bitter and aching. "Did you even try to find her?"
"I did what I had to do," he muttered.
His hand brushed over something on the desk—a framed photo turned face-down.
"You wouldn't understand," he said, quieter now. "You were a child. You don't remember how messy things got after the crash. The press. The scandal. The mistakes..."
Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? No, too brief. Too practiced.
Chaeyoung's gaze landed on the face-down photo. "What's that?"
"Nothing," he said, placing a folder over it. "Leave it."
But she already recognized the edge of the photo frame—gold and floral. Her mother's favorite design.
She narrowed her eyes. "Why hide something if there's nothing to fear?"
Jongnan straightened his cuffs. "Because some truths do more harm than lies."
"That an excuse you tell yourself?"
He stepped closer, his face unreadable. "You're not ready for the answers you think you want. Not now. Not yet."
"And if I go looking anyway?" She asked coldly.
He didn't flinch. But for a split second, something flickered in his voice.
"Then don't crash like your mother did."
Silence.
It was subtle. Too subtle. But Chaeyoung's eyes locked onto his.
He looked away.
The room suddenly felt colder.
She turned to leave, hand trembling slightly as it touched the door.
"You don't want to lose another daughter, do you?" She said over her shoulder, a whisper, half-threat, half-truth.
He didn't respond.
The door closed behind her.
***
"What the hell did he mean by 'then don't crash like your mother did'?" Chaeyoung muttered under her breath, her voice trembling more with fury than fear. The words replayed over and over in her head like a cursed lullaby, echoing with a venom she hadn't been prepared for.
She stormed down the marble hallways of the mansion—cold, echoey, and suffocating—and headed straight to her bedroom. Or rather, the living-room-sized box of isolation that reminded her daily that wealth didn't buy warmth. Her footsteps echoed louder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because her world had started cracking.
She didn't bother going back to school. It was already too late in the day, and quite frankly, she couldn't care less. The walls of Dulwich could wait. Her mind was in a storm she couldn't outrun.
Beep.
A message popped up on her phone.
Joon:
Hey. Saw you left school. What's up?
Chaeyoung stared at the screen, lips pressed into a tight line.
That single message pulled her deeper into the whirlpool of doubt already consuming her.
"For him to know I left school that quickly... Either he's stalking me, or someone's doing it for him," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. Her mind started connecting invisible threads with frightening clarity.
"Father knew I was in Dongducheon. How?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I never told anyone. Not even Jaehwan."
Her thoughts sharpened. "He followed me there. That day... he just showed up."
And then something else surfaced—something she'd buried in the moment.
"He told me he was Eunji's son out of nowhere. I never said a word about Eunji. Never even mentioned the name. Why would he bring that up unless... unless he already knew I had a connection to her?"
Her fingers trembled as she clenched the phone tighter.
"Careful who you trust. Even the ones helping you might be the ones hiding the truth. Watch your back, Chaeyoung."
Jaehwan's warning. It felt like he knew this was coming. Like he was trying to prepare her for something darker than betrayal.
Chaeyoung blinked back the sting in her eyes and whispered, "What if... Joon's working for him?"
"Him."
Her father.
That man who was supposed to protect her, not cover up her sister's existence or snap at her with cryptic words about the mother he might've—
She shook the thought off.
She switched off her phone with one sharp click and tossed it across the bed. The silence in the room grew heavier.
"I'm so tired of everyone pretending," she mumbled, letting her head fall back onto the pillows. "Why am I surprised? No one's real in this world anymore..."
Her voice trailed off, and slowly, the weight of exhaustion pinned her eyes shut.
***
Chaeyoung stood in the middle of a wide, rotting forest. The trees were gnarled and blackened, weeping sap like blood. The air was thick with static and the scent of iron. Wind howled in her ears — or was it whispering?
She turned.
Behind her, a woman stood with her back turned — long black hair falling over a soaked white hanbok. Her hands were trembling at her sides.
"Mom...?" Chaeyoung's voice cracked, barely a breath.
The woman didn't move.
Lightning flashed — but there was no thunder.
Instead, dozens of small shoes scattered across the forest floor appeared. Children's shoes. All mismatched. All covered in ash.
"Yeojin?" she called out again. Her voice sounded far away — like it wasn't hers.
Suddenly, her mother's neck jerked — too sharply — and her head turned a full 180° to look at Chaeyoung without her body following.
Her mother's eyes were black voids. Her mouth opened but didn't move in sync with her voice.
"You shouldn't have gone to Dongducheon."
Chaeyoung stumbled back. "W-What are you talking about?"
Her mother's body finally turned. Now her face was scarred, smeared with soot and old blood.
"You opened a door. You can't close it now."
Then her mother smiled — a grotesque, stretched grin that split through her cheeks. She began to twitch and convulse, like a marionette pulled by broken strings.
Chaeyoung tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The ground beneath her cracked like glass. Arms — thin, pale, and bone-like — burst out from beneath the soil, grabbing her ankles, trying to drag her underground.
Children's voices echoed from all directions — crying, laughing, screaming.
"Chaeyoung! You forgot me!"
"You let me die!"
"You were supposed to come back!"
She looked up again — her mother was floating now, neck twisted, eyes dripping black tears.
"He made sure I never left that night."
"Who—who did?" Chaeyoung gasped.
A mirror appeared in front of her, cracked and foggy.
In it, she saw herself — but younger, blood on her hands, her mouth moving silently.
Behind her younger self, her father's reflection appeared.
And he was smiling.
The mirror shattered.
Chaeyoung fell — down, down, into darkness, the world twisting, her mother's voice echoing louder now:
"She remembers you. But she's not the same anymore."
"And neither are you."
"You're next."
***
And before she knew it, jerked awake, breath catching violently in her throat.
Sweat clung to her skin. The photo had fallen to the floor.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Unknown number.
"She dreams about you too."
Her blood ran cold.
***
The phone buzzed again.
Same number.
No name. No ID.
Just another message.
"Stop looking."
Her hand trembled. She dropped the phone like it burned.
"No... no, no, no—" she whispered, backing into her headboard. Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it echoed off the walls.
The photo of her mother and Yeojin still lay on the ground. But now, the glass in the frame was cracked.
She hadn't touched it.
She grabbed the photo, inspecting the damage. There, across the center — a jagged break cut right through her mother's face. Her smiling face.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. Once. Twice.
Darkness swallowed the room for a full second.
When they came back on, the door to her closet was wide open.
Her breath caught. She hadn't opened it.
She grabbed her phone again, palms slick with sweat. She forced herself to open the messages.
Unknown:
"You were never supposed to survive the crash."
Chaeyoung felt the ground tilt under her.
Her mind raced. Her father. Her mother. The car crash.
Yeojin. The orphanage. Dongducheon.
And now—this.
She ran out of her room, down the hall — breath sharp and panicked. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone.
***
Moments Later – Inside the Mansion
Chaeyoung burst into her father's study.
"Father," she called, "I need to talk to—"
But the room was empty.
The light was still on.
And his laptop was open, glowing faintly in the darkened room.
On the screen, a paused video feed.
Chaeyoung stepped closer, squinting.
It was footage — grainy security cam footage — of a girl walking through an alley.
The girl was small. Pale. With long dark hair.
She looked eerily like Yeojin.
Chaeyoung's lips parted in disbelief.
"What is this...?" She whispered.
A sticky note was stuck to the edge of the screen. One word, written in her father's rigid handwriting.
"Erase."
Just then, a voice echoed behind her.
"You should've stayed out of this."
Chaeyoung spun around.
Her father stood in the doorway, half in shadow, his expression unreadable.
"I trusted you," she said, voice shaking.
"No. You obeyed me. There's a difference."
"You knew," she whispered. "You knew where Yeojin was."
His eyes darkened. "She was better off gone. And if you keep digging, Chaeyoung... you'll be gone too."
They locked eyes.
And for the first time in her life, she didn't see a father in front of her.
She saw a man hiding everything.