Who are you?

MEANWHILE

Carrie sat at the crumbling threshold of the abandoned house, her figure almost swallowed by the shadows. Her hair veiled her face, head bowed as if the weight of the world rested on her neck. The moon filtered weakly through the jagged silhouette of the surrounding buildings, casting her in a cold, silver glow. The house behind her was smothered in cobwebs and dust, draped in a silence so thick it hummed. It didn't just look haunted—it felt it. And she… she looked like one of its ghosts—lost, forgotten, aching.

---

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

Carrie hummed softly to herself, her hands busy dusting the shelves in the living room. There was a glimmer in her eyes, the kind that whispered secrets—secrets of satisfaction, of a well-laid plan. The corners of her lips curled into a smile that could only be described as victorious.

I did it, she thought. I finally set him up.

Then the doorbell rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She darted to the door, hope bubbling inside her. She flung it open, smile in full bloom—only to be met by a stranger in a delivery uniform.

"Are you Ms. Evans?" the man asked, holding out a plain brown box.

Carrie's smile faltered. "Yes… I am," she replied, her brows pinching together.

"This is for you," he said flatly. "Signature not required." He dropped the box gently on the floor and walked away without another word.

"But… I didn't order anything," she murmured to herself, staring at the box. "Maybe Dad sent it? But how would he even know this address…"

She carried the package inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. Settling onto the couch, she slowly unsealed it. Inside, there were stacks of papers—clinical, cold. And on top, a small note, bearing the Tech-Com logo.

She picked it up, her expression already wary.

> "I got you a little gift. Hope it shakes you up. Yours, as always,

Kim Na-eun."

Carrie scoffed, tossing the note aside. "Typical Na-eun. No greeting, no tact. Just her usual dose of drama."

She began sifting through the rest of the papers… until her hands froze.

Her eyes scanned the documents. Again. And again. As each word sunk in, the warmth drained from her face, replaced by ice and disbelief.

Then… laughter. Short. Shaky. Unnatural.

"This… no. No, this can't be real." But her voice cracked.

The sword buried in her chest twisted as panic swelled. Her breaths grew ragged. Tears slipped down before she even knew she was crying. Her body trembled. Her reality was shattering—and she couldn't stop it.

---

BACK TO THE PRESENT

Carrie remained motionless at the doorway of the abandoned house, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, as if holding herself together was all she had left. The night air whispered through the hollow walls, but she didn't flinch. Not until a voice, low and familiar, sliced through the silence.

"Well well… What do we have here? Cinderella after midnight?"

Carrie's head snapped up. Her tear-rimmed eyes locked onto Mr. Evans standing under the moonlight. Part of her wanted to leap into his arms, bury herself in the only safety she'd ever known. But another part—burning, aching—wanted to scream at him. Rage and love clashed violently within her.

She didn't move. Just sighed… and looked away.

He approached slowly, sitting beside her on the crumbling step. "What are you doing out here all alone? Don't you know this place looks haunted? What if something had happened to you?"

Carrie spoke without looking at him. Her voice was hollow. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"I do," he answered softly, then turned to her. "You've been crying."

She sniffed. "Not really."

"You've been crying all day, Carrie. I can hear it in your voice."

Silence.

Then, barely above a whisper, she asked, "Dad… am I adopted?"

The question hit the air like thunder. Mr. Evans went completely still, the blood draining from his face.

"Carrie…" he breathed.

"So it's true," she said, her voice cracking. "It's true."

"Carrie…" he said again, but the words fell empty.

"I found out everything, Dad. The documents, the sealed reports. Everything. She sent them to me. Kim Na-eun."

He looked away, grief etched into his face.

"You can't work with her again," Carrie choked. "She knows… she knows who I am to you. And I won't let her hurt you because of me. You should leave first thing in the morning"

"That doesn't matter right now," he said, shaking his head. "What matters is you. You."

She let out a bitter laugh, one that ended in a sob. "What do you want me to say? That I'm okay? That I'm grateful? All my life, I believed I was yours—really yours. I thought I had the most amazing parents… and now I find out it was all a lie. Was I ever going to know? Or did you plan to keep the truth buried forever?"

Mr. Evans opened his mouth… but no words came.

Carrie's voice broke as tears streamed down. "And the worst part? I'm not even angry. Not really. I know you did it to protect me. You loved me better than any biological parent ever could. That's what hurts the most."

She turned toward him, her eyes pleading. "You were too perfect, Dad. Now it makes me question if everything was real, or you were just trying to be so perfect so I don't even suspect it even once."

"No," Mr. Evans said, his voice shaking as he pulled her into his arms. "Don't say that. None of this changes how I feel. I don't care what reports says, to me they're all just papers. You're my daughter. Always have been. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Carrie."

She buried her face into his chest, sobbing harder than she ever had before. "But it does change everything. I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I look at you, I remember. I remember that you're not really my dad."

Mr. Evans held her tighter, tears quietly falling from his own eyes. "I am your father in every way that matters. You're not my foster child. You're my heart, Carrie. And nothing will ever take that away."

Carrie clung to him like she was drowning. "I don't know how to live with this, Dad. I don't know how to feel whole again."

"We'll figure it out," he whispered. "Together."

And under the ghostly moonlight, amidst the ruins of the house and the ruins of truth, father and daughter sat wrapped in the only thing left unshaken—love. Not bound by blood. But forged through time, trust, and unbreakable bond.