The grand Seo estate was aglow that evening. Glittering chandeliers shone through tall windows, and luxury cars lined the front circle for the annual charity auction. Guests flowed in and out, draped in designer gowns and tailored tuxedos, sipping wine and exchanging carefully curated smiles.
But in the shadows, one figure moved with quiet purpose.
Hena.
Clad in a simple black dress and a borrowed staff badge, she clutched a camera bag at her side and kept her head down, blending with the hired event photographers. No one gave her a second glance.
Her heart pounded in her chest—not from fear of being caught, but from the weight of the truth she was about to chase.
She had only one goal tonight: find answers.
And she had a plan.
As the auction got underway in the main hall, Hena slipped through a side corridor she had memorized from old floor plans she'd found online. The Seo mansion was a maze of polished wood, ancestral tapestries, and secrets.
She passed the staff kitchen, ducked through the library, and paused at the heavy double doors of Madam Seo's private study.
Locked. As expected.
But nearby, in a forgotten side room once used for records and archives, the door creaked open.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stepped inside.
Stacks of boxes. Dust-covered ledgers. A safe.
She scanned the drawers until she found one labeled "Family Birth Records."
She flipped through it—expecting to find something, anything.
There was a file marked "Hara Seo – Born 20 Years Ago." Complete with hospital photos, birth time, weight, and a long letter detailing her naming ceremony and public announcements.
But when she looked for another file—her name—there was nothing.
Not a single document.
Her chest tightened.
"Where are you?" she whispered, hands moving faster now, rifling through every drawer, every envelope. But it was as if her existence had been erased from the family's official memory.
She stood still for a moment, overwhelmed. Then something caught her eye.
A hallway leading to a locked room with stained-glass doors.
She hesitated. Then tried the knob.
To her surprise—it opened.
The room inside was lined with portraits.
Framed canvases, golden and elaborate, covered every inch of the wall. Hara at one year. Hara in elementary school. Hara winning a piano contest. Hara in her school uniform, her debutante portrait, her first official company photograph.
Each one a visual testament to the life she had lived—the life Hena had never been given.
And not a single picture of her.
Not even a forgotten baby photo.
A coldness crept up Hena's spine. Her throat ached as her eyes scanned the images. The longer she stood there, the heavier her chest felt.
She wasn't supposed to exist.
A ghost.
An accident buried in silk.
Grief and rage coiled inside her, twisting together like twin vines. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palm to keep the tears from falling.
"Hena?"
She spun around.
A voice she hadn't heard in years echoed in the room.
It belonged to Minjae—her childhood friend from the countryside.
Now taller, dressed in a tailored suit, and with a quiet intelligence in his dark eyes, he looked at her with shock and concern. "What are you doing here?"
She blinked, momentarily speechless. "Minjae?"
He stepped closer. "I recognized you when I saw you earlier with a camera. I thought it couldn't be… but then you came this way and—"
"What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping back in disbelief.
"I'm working here," he said. "My family does security and logistics for the Seo Foundation. I've been helping them with charity events since college."
Hena's head swirled. "Minjae… I—there's something I have to tell you."
He watched her closely. "I can see that. You look like you're carrying the weight of the world."
"I think I'm one of them," she whispered, pointing at the portraits. "I think I was supposed to be in this family… but someone erased me."
He didn't speak right away. Instead, he looked at the paintings. Then at her.
"I always thought there was something missing about your story," he said quietly. "But this… this is too big."
She nodded, tears finally escaping down her cheeks. "I don't know who to trust anymore."
Minjae took off his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders. "You can trust me. You always could."
Their eyes met—and in that moment, Hena felt a flicker of the childhood bond they once shared. A flicker of hope.
"I'm going to help you find the truth," Minjae promised. "You won't be alone in this."
---
Meanwhile, in the brightly lit hall, Madam Seo stood beside Damian as the auctioneer thanked donors. Her smile was tight.
"Where's Hara?" she asked.
"She left early," Damian lied smoothly.
But his mind was elsewhere. On the photograph. On Hena. On the look in her eyes when he handed her that photo of twin babies labeled with her name.
He knew something deeper was hidden. And he intended to find it—no matter what the cost.