Milk would have never imagined that one day she would witness her own funeral.

She recalled being in the boat with her bestfriend, Mook and her boyfriend, Max celebrating her 25th birthday happily but she didn't know that would be her last time to celebrate her birthday in this world.

In her last moments, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Have been friend with Mook for 10 years and been in relationship with Max for 5 years, the two person that she trust more than her family. She didn't know that behind her back, these two person would betray her and plan to sell her to vvip person.

Milk finds out about the plan while accidently holding Max's phone. After finding out about it, Milk wanted to run and screamed for help. Her screaming make Max anxious and closed Milk's mouth using his hand and stabbed Milk in the thigh using the glass that had been broken by him.

While she struggle from Max hand, Mook come and strangled her neck with face full with anger ,that's where a fight broke out between them that caused Milk to be pushed from the boat.

She had struggled for so long, desperately holding onto side of the boat but Mook hit her hand using wine bottle that cause her to be powerless. Milk's heart had been filled with resentment and indignation.

Then, once she regained conscious, she was actually floating mid-air, while her funeral was being held right below.

She saw her father trembling before her grave, his head full of white hair, his face aged and haggard, leaving Milk shocked.

She hadn't seen her father for a long time, how could he have aged so much since then?

Since the day her father foolish see her mother run with other guy, the feelings between father and daughter had fallen to sub zero temperatures. She had her father stopped her mom from running with other guy but she only see her father stay in the same place without stop her mother.

Seeing the grieving expression on that her father face, she scoffs, eyes filled with disdain.

Like she could believe that sorrowful expression was real, she was merely disgusted by the hypocrisy.

Towards that her father, she had never shown a good expression, and was always cold and scornful. Just seeing that her father face, her heart would be full of hatred, since her father didn't stop her mother from leaving them.

Milk's gaze turns towards the tall, sturdy man in the black suit. The man is expressionless, appearing so calm he almost seemed indifferent.

Milk sneers. Why even bother attending this kind of funeral? All these false pretences, she's already dead yet they're still trying to disgust her!

Clenching her fists at her side, she glares at the man's figure, her eyes filled with resentment. Yet what can she do? Now she's merely a wisp of a ghost, unable to do a thing. Milk shuts her eyes, her fists trembling.

Watching the crowd disperse, she wanders aimlessly, not knowing where to go, and instinctively follows those two 's close relations' back to the Suparat mansion, before immediately feeling foolish over her own behaviour.

Is this even still her home?

No, ever since her mother had leave this home, this place had already stopped being home.

Milk opens her blank eyes, and drifts wordlessly. She had returned home, yet no one could see her. Late at night, the large house is filled with silence, leaving only her.

Where can she go? Is there even a place for her?

Her shadow slowly drifts to her room, yet someone is already inside.

She stills, seeing that man sitting on her bed, his hand stroking the picture frame at the head of her bed, with the picture of her with her chin tilted, filled with disdain, her smile haughty and proud.

Why is he here?

She had only just died and yet he wants to clear out her room already?

Milk clenches her fists, furiously glaring at the man, waiting for his next move.

She waited for a long time, yet the man merely repeats the same action, his gaze always fixed on that photo. Only when morning came, did the man rise and leave the room.

Milk frowns, not knowing what the man had wanted to do.

Yet, she thinks, that man clearly wouldn't have any good intentions. Just let her wait and see, see how he'll seize and grab everything that should have belonged to her.

She watches as the man sits in the President's seat, watches as he slowly ages, watches as the man always enters her room in the late hours, then silently remains for the night.

She doesn't understand. Why hadn't he cleared out her room, but instead kept everything exactly as it was, maintaining the same appearance as when she had left.

Milk is puzzled yet had no way to ask and can only remain there, her heart filled with suspicion as she silently watches on.

She stays by that man's side, watching as that man brought a small cake into her room each year on her birthday, watching as the candles melted and extinguished, watching as the man lightly strokes the picture frame right before he leaves the room.

She watches on like this, watching him year after year.

The hatred in her heart turns into suspicion, then doubt, before finally becoming completely baffled. And, as though it had become a habit, she merely watches.

As her father pass away, she watched that man as he personally sent them off, until only he remained in that huge house….

Why hadn't he taken a wife?

Milk watches the man as he trudges on, detached and alone. Returning home, the place he spends the most time in is her room, and the thing he looks at most is her picture.

His gaze always seemed so indifferent, his eyes deep and unfathomable. She never knew what he was thinking, yet he left her filled with unease.

One year, he adopted a young boy and raised him, teaching the boy everything, until one day he suddenly collapsed.

She listened as the doctor diagnosed him with lung cancer. In addition, the man was also malnourished, suffering from stomach ulcers and from overworking. If he didn't rest, his condition would only worsen.

Shocked, Milk stares at the man's tranquil expression, appearing disturbingly calm, not even showing a trace of panic, as though it had all fallen within his expectations.

It felt like he had always been waiting for this moment, the thought causing Milk's heart to inexplicable tighten, as she watches a light flicker across the man's eyes.

She recalls the man's serious smoking habits, how little he eats, never having a proper meal. How his tall, straight physique gradually withered and recalled how he would wake in the middle of the night, then remain in her room wide awake until dawn.

Looking at the man's dull, almost desolate eyes, Milk's fist subconsciously clenches, trembling faintly.

Against the doctor and his foster son's advice, the man insisted on returning home, refusing to remain in the hospital, refusing surgery and treatment.

He merely returns to her room, sitting on her bed as he stared silently at her picture.

While she stared silently at him.

In the end, she watched his funeral with her own eyes — he was buried beside her.

She glides before his grave, her transparent hand gently reaching out, stopping before she almost touches the picture on his tombstone. She stares at the man's picture with a conflicted expression, before her fingers finally reach forward, lightly stroking at the man's somber face.

She recalls how he was still holding onto that old frame up to his death, her picture still inside. As he closed his eyes, his cold lips rose into a slight smile. At that time, she thought she had heard a name slip out.

"My puppy…."

My puppy is her nickname that only him would called her

Only him, her childhood friends, Mark that her father take care when his parent pass away because of car accident.

"Idiot."

Her tears spill without a sound, not knowing when all the hatred and resentment had disappeared, leaving only an unspeakable pain.

Really painful.

Milk forcefully clutches at her chest, her fingers trembling, unable to comprehend why her heart could hurt so much when she was already dead.

*Pa* — her tears fall to the ground, as her transparent figure slowly disappears, until all that remains is a low cry.

Idiot….