That night, I finally couldn't help asking Daniel, "Do you also feel like Luna is just… a little too well-liked?"
He was slumped on the couch playing games, not even looking up. "Isn't that a good thing? I mean, would you rather hire someone obnoxious?"
I frowned. Still bitter about the fact that he had mistaken her for me earlier, I added sourly, "If my help is more likable than I am, that's not exactly great."
He paused the game and turned to me. His gaze was calm. "Actually, I don't like her much." "You don't?" "I don't know how to put it," he said, scowling slightly. "She's too… too 'submissive.' It feels fake. And it always feels like she's watching us from the shadows."
Hearing this made me feel much better. "Then when the month's up, we let her go. It was temporary anyway." "Of course," he said, already pressing play again.
I was satisfied. At least in Daniel's heart, there were no special feelings for her. But I had made up my mind: she couldn't stay.
By the time I started my skincare routine, my resolve to kick her out only hardened.
I picked up my moisturizer. The jar felt wrong in my palm—too light. I'd opened it only three days ago and used it sparingly, yet half of it was gone. I stared at it, frowning, until my eyes drifted to the other side of the sink.
An identical jar sat there. Same brand, same batch number. Even the tiny smudge on the label was mirrored perfectly.
My breath caught. Luna appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a towel. "Oh, that," she said lightly. "I saw how well it worked for you, so I bought the same one."
I stood there, clutching the jar, unable to ask a single question that didn't sound insane. This moisturizer was a custom-formulated private prescription; there was no such thing as a "same one" in a store.
I was furious. I felt deceived and violated. She was lying to my face. She turned back to the kitchen, her movements silent and precise. I watched her back, feeling the crisis of being encroached upon reaching its peak.
I didn't sleep well that night. Around 2:00 a.m., I got up and walked out of my room.
The moment I pushed the door open, I felt that something was off.
For a split second, I saw a space composed of countless lines, eerily twisting and overlapping. There was nothing solid there—only a dizzying, half-formed sense of fakery.
I faltered, blinking hard.
The house was still the same as it had always been. The floor, the walls, and the sharp edges of every piece of furniture had returned to normal. I pressed my temples and let out a long, shaky breath, scoffing at myself. It was indeed just the lack of sleep; I was hallucinating from exhaustion.
But when I lowered my hand and walked into the living room, my heart stopped again.
I was startled once more.
Luna was actually standing right there in the center of the living room. She hadn't turned on the light; the moonlight sliced through the gaps in the curtains, casting a sickly pale glow on half of her face. She stood motionless as a statue, her eyes fixed on the engagement photo on the TV console, as if it held some profound command meant only for her.
Just as my breath hitched, she turned. That flash of relief and joy instantly climbed onto her face—brighter than during the day, and more like a pre-set program.
"Sis?" she said, smiling instantly. "Can't sleep?"
I didn't answer. I practically fled back into my room.
She had to go.