My best friend came to my house for dinner, and her earring rolled into the bottom of the dishwasher. Her expression changed drastically; she pulled me outside, telling me to call the police and not to drink the milk handed over by my husband. Married for seven years, he treated me with consideration, yet every night at eleven he started an empty dishwasher. Tracing down to the lower floor along the hidden pipes, I discovered that my twin sister, missing for half a year, was actually living there; my marriage registration with my husband also could not be found anywhere. She collected my old items and imitated my habits—what on earth did she want to do using my name?