The alley was suffocatingly dark.
Cold air scraped against the walls as footsteps echoed—fast, sharp, relentless.
“She must be hiding somewhere here.” A group of men rushed forward, guns clutched tightly in their hands, scanning every corner of the narrow passage.
“Let’s check over there.” Their voices faded into the distance.
“Huff… huff…” A faint, broken breath lingered in the shadows.
She dragged herself forward.
Blood trickled down from her head, blurring her vision.
Her right hand pressed desperately against the gunshot wound in her left shoulder, but it did little to stop the bleeding.
Her left leg was twisted—broken—and every inch she moved sent waves of agony through her body.
Still, she crawled, her body scraping against the cold ground, leaving a trail behind her.
I have to survive… no matter what.
Her fingers clenched into the dirt.
I will find the truth about my father… no matter what.
[The Past] Lily had been fifteen.
A normal girl.
A school uniform, messy short hair brushing against her ears, and bright brown eyes that always seemed to shine.
She loved her father more than anything.
“My little fighter,” he used to call her.
That day, she returned home later than usual.
“Dad!
I’m home!
Sorry, I’m late—I was with my friends—” Her voice stopped.
The air felt wrong.
The door creaked as she stepped inside.
The kitchen— Blood.
Everywhere.
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes frantically searched the room.
“Dad…?” Her voice trembled.
Then she saw him.
Lying beside the dining table.
Unmoving.
Covered in blood.
“DAD—!” Her scream shattered the silence as she ran toward him, dropping to her knees.
“D-Dad… what happened…?
Who did this?
Please… please wake up…” But his body was already cold.
And no matter how much she shook him— He never answered.
That day, Lily lost everything.
No one came to hold her.
No one stayed.
Even her so-called relatives turned their backs on her.
Alone, she learned to survive.
She studied.
Worked part-time.
Endured.
And slowly, painfully— She turned her grief into determination.
She would find the truth.
No matter what.
[The Present] A flicker of light appeared at the end of the alley.
Her eyes widened.
Hope.
Maybe— Maybe she could make it.
She dragged herself forward, reaching toward it.
Then— A gunshot.
The sound tore through the silence.
For a moment, everything stopped.
Then came the pain.
Sharp.
Final.
Her body jerked as the bullet pierced straight through her chest.
Her heart.
She collapsed onto the ground.
Blood spread beneath her as her fingers clawed weakly at the floor.
Is this… the end?
Her vision blurred.
What about… my father’s truth…?
Tears slipped from her eyes.
I don’t want… to end like this… Her hand trembled— Then stilled.
Darkness consumed her.
She gasped.
Air rushed into her lungs as her eyes snapped open.
Her body jerked upright.
“…Where… am I…?” Her voice was hoarse.
She looked around.
This wasn’t a hospital.
The room was unfamiliar—soft light, clean walls, warm air.
“…Am I… alive?” Confusion clouded her mind.
Then— She froze.
A mirror stood to her right.
Slowly, she turned toward it.
Her breath hitched.
She stood up and stumbled closer, her reflection coming into view.
“…Who… is this?” It wasn’t her.
Long, jet-black hair flowed down past her waist.
Her skin was pale and smooth.
And her eyes— Blue.
Deep.
Clear.
Like the ocean.
“This… isn’t me…” Before she could process it— The door burst open.
“SISTER!” Two small figures rushed in and threw themselves at her, hugging her tightly.
She staggered backward and fell onto the bed with them clinging to her.
“…What—?” She stared at them.
Twins.
Identical.
Black hair.
Blue eyes.
Just like her—no, like this body.
The door opened again.
“Twins!” A woman stepped in, her voice gentle but firm.
“What are you doing?
Let her go—she just woke up.” The twins reluctantly loosened their grip.
The woman walked closer.
She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with short brown hair and soft blue eyes.
Her expression was warm—so warm it almost hurt to look at.
She smiled.
“Ana… baby, are you okay?
Your fever just broke.
You look so shocked.” Ana.
Ana?
Is that… this body’s name?
The woman sat beside her and took her hand.
“You’re alright, right?” The warmth of her touch— It was overwhelming.
Lily—no, Ana—stared at her, her vision blurring.
[The Past] After her father’s death, there had been no warmth.
No hands to hold hers.
No one to stay.
She had faced everything alone.
But deep inside— She had always wanted someone.
Someone who would care.
Someone who would stay.
[The Present] “…I’m okay,” she whispered.
Her voice trembled slightly.
The woman sighed in relief.
“You scared us.
You’ve had a fever for days.
We were about to take you to the hospital.” “N-No… I’m fine now.” “Alright,” the woman smiled softly.
“Then come downstairs later.
We’ll all have breakfast together.
We’ve been worried.” She leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead before leaving the room.
Ana froze.
Her fingers slowly touched the place where the kiss lingered.
Warm.
So warm.
A sudden rush of memories flooded her mind— A girl burning with fever.
A mother crying beside her.
A father holding her hand tightly.
An older brother watching over her.
Twins waiting outside the door.
She gasped as the visions faded.
“…So this is… her family…” Her chest tightened.
“I need to understand what’s going on…” She took a deep breath.
“For now… I’ll stay.” Ten minutes later, she stepped downstairs.
Everyone was waiting.
The moment they saw her, their faces lit up.
Warm.
Loving.
Real.
Before she could react, they rushed toward her, wrapping her in a tight embrace—as if she were something fragile, something precious.
Her body stiffened.
Then— Tears began to fall.
Silently.
Uncontrollably.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
But as their arms held her— She finally understood.
This was the warmth she had longed for.
The warmth she had lost.
The warmth she had never stopped searching for.
And for the first time in a long, long while— She didn’t feel alone.