The Extreme Cold Strikes: I Play the Fake Daughter's Family to Death

I died in the third month of the extreme cold.

Wearing thin clothes, my face covered with frost, my corpse frozen stiff.

After death, I saw my family whom I cared about deeply, all gathered around the murderer.

My father said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s not your fault she died.”

My mother said, “Our dear girl suffered, but it’s okay, I still have you, who is even more like a daughter than my real one.”

My brother said, “That woman is finally dead, I only recognize you as my sister!”

My boyfriend said, “Now we can finally be together openly.”

In overwhelming grief and anger, I opened my eyes, only to return to the day I was brought back home.