My phone buzzed again, another message lighting up the screen.
Joon: I was supposed to tell you the other night but…
The typing bubble disappeared. Then came back. Then disappeared again.
I frowned. "What now?"
Joon: I know a thing or two about hacking, and I found out which orphanage she was sent to.
For a second, I froze.
He wasn't talking about just anyone.
He was talking about her.
My thumb hovered over the screen, heart pounding. "So they actually sent her to an orphanage…" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Me: Which one?
His reply came fast, like he'd been waiting for me to ask.
Joon: It's all the way in Dongducheon.
"Dongducheon?" I muttered, sitting up straight. "How do you even know that?"
Joon: Before my mom left us, I caught her talking to the President once in a while. She mentioned something about taking 'the child' far away — to Dongducheon. So I figured it had to be your sister. Oh, and she mentioned a car accident… not sure if it's connected, but it felt off.
I bit my lip. My hands were trembling.
Joon: I hacked into the orphanage she talked to. Security was trash. I found a name — Kim Yeojin.
Online, it says she was the President's daughter who died in a car accident. But it's all fake.
My breath hitched.
No. It couldn't be fake.
Because if it was… that meant everything my father said was a lie.
Me: We need to see the place. We need proof.
Joon: Wait— you can't. What if your dad or someone else finds out?
Me: Don't worry about that. He's probably too busy with Eunji or Yena or whoever she is.
Joon: Still… going to another city? That's insane.
Me: I know.
And that was that. I threw on a jacket, stuffed my phone into my bag, and slipped out of my room before I could change my mind.
The hallway lights flickered faintly. Somewhere downstairs, Eunji's laughter echoed — soft, fake, and supposedly perfect.
I didn't look back.
***
JOON'S POV
By the time I reached the bus stop, the last bus was already there. I spotted her instantly — sitting near the back, head tilted against the window, eyes unfocused.
Chaeyoung Park. The untouchable queen.
But right now, she didn't look untouchable. She looked human… fragile, even.
I sat two rows behind her, hood pulled low, watching the lights outside blur past.
The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was heavy. Like both of us knew this trip could change everything.
My mind drifted — back to my father's funeral, my mother's voice, her promises to "make things better."
Better for who, though? Certainly not for me.
Now she was living like royalty, and I was here… chasing ghosts with the President's daughter.
I sighed. If she finds her sister, maybe she'll finally trust me.
***
CHAEYOUNG'S POV
The bus rattled through the night, each bump making my stomach twist tighter. I stared out the window, the city shrinking behind us.
Dongducheon.
The name alone made it feel like another world… one that held answers I'd been denied for years.
When we finally arrived, the air was colder. The streets were empty.
Joon led the way, pulling his hood tighter. The orphanage loomed ahead, old and worn, surrounded by rusting gates and cracked walls.
"This is it," he whispered.
It didn't look like much — just another forgotten place, the kind you'd drive past without noticing. But the truth lived here. I could feel it.
He crouched by the side entrance, pulling out a small black device. "Let me handle this."
A soft click.
The lock opened.
We slipped inside.
The air smelled like dust and old wood.
My flashlight cut through the darkness, lighting up a long hallway lined with closed doors.
The records room was exactly where Joon said it would be — down the hall, behind a metal door with a fading sign.
He got it open in seconds.
Inside, rows of filing cabinets stood like soldiers. Papers scattered everywhere.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I flipped through folders until my hand froze on one name.
Kim Yeojin.
My throat went dry.
I opened it.
Photos. Medical reports. Handwritten notes.
All real. All hers.
My sister.
Before I could breathe, footsteps echoed from outside.
Joon cursed under his breath. "Someone's coming."
We ducked behind a cabinet just as the door creaked open.
A flashlight beam swept the room.
"Just a night check," a voice muttered.
I held my breath, staring at Joon. Our faces were barely inches apart… and for a split second, everything went silent.
Then the caretaker left.
We stayed still a little longer before sneaking back out.
***
CARETAKER'S POV
"This place won't last another year," the caretaker muttered, locking the records room.
My partner snorted. "You're telling me. Ever since that mess eleven years ago, it's been cursed. Missing kids. Weird visitors. No one talks about it, but we all know."
He paused, glancing down the dark hallway. "If the truth ever gets out… they'll shut us down."
I didn't reply. Some ghosts weren't meant to be disturbed.
***
CHAEYOUNG'S POV
Once we were safe, I turned to Joon. "We have to see where she went next."
He nodded, scanning the last page. "Here—look."
Admitted: February 18, 2014.
Transferred: October 3, 2016.
Fostered by: Lim family.
New ID issued.
And a photo.
Older. Longer hair. Smaller smile.
Still Yeojin.
Tears pricked my eyes. "That's her."
We caught the next bus to the address listed on the file.
***
EUNJI'S POV
The penthouse was glowing.
Music pulsed through gold-plated speakers, lights from the city painting our reflection across the glass.
Jongnan held me close, laughing, drunk on wine and nostalgia.
"I wish this could last forever," he murmured against my hair.
"Me too," I lied, smiling up at him.
Forever? Please. Nothing lasts forever — unless I make it.
He still didn't know. About the money. The deals. The child.
The mess I buried years ago.
He spun me again, laughing. And I laughed too, because that's what love was to me — a game I was winning.
"Keep smiling, Mr. President," I thought. "You dance while I plan the next move."
***
CHAEYOUNG'S POV
Dongducheon felt even quieter when we got off the bus again. The street was dead, every house dark.
Except one.
The address from the file.
It was small — with peeling paint, a crooked mailbox, and wind chimes swaying weakly in the cold breeze.
My heart pounded. My hands felt numb.
Joon stood behind me. "You ready?"
I nodded, even though I wasn't.
I raised my hand and knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
Third time—
A faint voice came from inside. "Who's there?"
I froze. My throat tightened.
The door creaked open.
And there she was.
Messy hair. Oversized sweatshirt. Eyes wide with disbelief.
"Chaeyoung?"
Her voice cracked.
And in that moment, everything stopped.
All the years of pretending I didn't care. All the nights I stared at that photo, wishing for a miracle.
It was her.
Alive.
And standing right in front of me.
But…