To infiltrate the largest crime syndicate in the southern province as an undercover operative, I turned to the streets the very day after I was expelled from the police academy. My boyfriend dumped me, disgusted by my choices. My best friend cut all ties, cursing me for throwing my life away. Even my father, who had always doted on me, officially disowned me. I remained unmoved, sinking deeper into the darkness. Three years into my life on the streets, I finally penetrated the syndicate's inner circle. That same day, my father wept as he severed all ties with me. He swore he no longer had a daughter, declaring he wished I were dead. For seven years, I didn't have a single night of peaceful sleep. Every day, my conscience tore me apart. Finally, three days ago, the syndicate failed another major operation and discovered a mole. They found me. After transmitting the core evidence to my handlers, I was brutally tortured by them for ten agonizing hours until I died. My soul drifted, ultimately returning to my father's side. It had been years since I last saw him. His hair was completely white now. His posture, once straight and proud, was gone. From a distance, he looked like he was carrying the weight of a mountain—old and stooped. Our neighbor, Mr. Henderson, saw my father and walked over with a smirk. "Hey, Arthur. Your daughter hasn't been back this year either, huh? Running with the wrong crowd is dangerous. You don't think something happened to her, do you?" My father’s usually calm face instantly darkened. He let out a cold snort and snapped back. "I haven't had a daughter in ten years. And even if I did, she wouldn't have lasted this long. She should have died a long time ago." As if that wasn't enough, he stomped his foot and yelled, "I served my country! I worked in the factories! I have lived a clean, honest life! How could I raise such an animal?! If she's dead, then she's finally done something good for the Sterling family!" Hearing that felt like a physical blow. It hurt more than the thousand cuts I suffered at the hands of the syndicate. I could count on one hand the number of times I had been home in the last few years. And every time I saw him, his words were exactly the same. "You piece of trash. You menace to society. What are you doing here?" "You are not welcome here. Get out." "Dad, I barely get to come home. Just let me have one meal with you. I promise I'll leave right after. I won't bother you." I used to cling to his arm, trying to act like the little girl he used to spoil. I didn't expect him to pamper me like before; I just desperately wanted a little more time with him. But his face would turn dark with rage. He literally threw the trash from the front porch right into my face. Old wrappers and rotting food covered me. The neighbors would gather, pointing and whispering. "Arthur is being too harsh. He won't even share a meal with his own daughter." "What do you know? She looks innocent, but she's absolute garbage. She runs a gang, extorts people... she does every bad thing you can think of." My face burned with shame. Looking at my furious father, I stayed silent for a moment before turning away. Covered in the stench of garbage, I sat on the cold concrete steps outside all night. I felt deeply wronged, but I didn't blame him. My father served in the military when he was young. He was forced to medically retire after sustaining a severe injury and spent the rest of his life working in a factory. When I was little, he always told me that if it wasn't for his early medical discharge, he would have been a proud police officer. While other kids fell asleep to fairy tales, I fell asleep to stories of his military service. To fulfill his dream, I studied relentlessly and, against all odds, was accepted into the police academy. The sound of a mocking scoff pulled me back to the present. Looking at Mr. Henderson's sneering face, I knew he was doing it on purpose. Everyone in this neighborhood knew that Arthur Sterling's daughter was expelled from the police academy for insubordination. My bright future was thrown away. And Arthur, who had been so incredibly proud when I got into the academy, became the neighborhood joke. When Mr. Henderson was younger, my father frequently caught him committing petty theft, making him a regular at the local precinct. He and my father despised each other. So, he naturally took every opportunity to rub salt in the wound. Hearing my father's words, he laughed loudly, his eyes filled with mockery. "Arthur, what are you saying? No matter how much of a lowlife she is, she's still your flesh and blood. You can't escape that." My father's face turned ash-gray, his chest heaving. He ground his teeth, speaking as if it took every ounce of his remaining strength. "I do not have a daughter like her. What she's done is unforgivable. God will strike that animal down one day." With that, my father turned and walked away quickly, his steps slightly unsteady. The neighbors laughed. I floated beside my father, my spectral eyes red. When he was young, he was respected wherever he went. Now, in his old age, he was being humiliated—all because of me. I watched helplessly as the corners of his mouth trembled, his eyes slowly turning red. It felt like ten thousand blades piercing my heart. I knew he couldn't hear me, but I stood beside him and finally said the words I had held back for so long. "I'm sorry, Dad." 2 Back home, my father sat heavily on the sofa, panting, a thin layer of cold sweat covering his forehead. Only after a long while did he pull a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket. He carefully smoothed it out. I froze for a moment before I recognized it. It was my acceptance letter to the police academy. More than a decade had passed, and the paper was worn and yellowed with age. The bold, powerful print was now faded and blurry. But my father picked up his reading glasses from the table, sat up straight, and began to read it softly. "Student Mia Sterling, you have been accepted to our academy... to become a probationary..." His voice grew louder, and a profound, agonizing sorrow washed over me, suffocating me until I couldn't breathe. Scenes from the past flashed before my eyes. I remembered it was a sweltering summer day, the heat making my clothes stick to my skin. I was running home, clutching that acceptance letter. The warm breeze brushed my face, and it felt like the whole world was cheering for me. "Dad! I got in! Dad! I got in!" I yelled the entire way, drawing the attention of everyone in the neighborhood. My father was in his prime back then. He ran out of the building, his face radiating pure joy. His large hands held the letter, reading it over and over. The light in his eyes burned as bright as the midday sun. "That's my girl! You are my pride and joy! I am so proud of you!" He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me high into the air. That was the closest I ever felt to the sky. I remember that day clearly. He walked me around the entire neighborhood, showing the letter to everyone he met, proudly patting his chest. "The police academy! My daughter! She got in!" Every neighbor gave a thumbs-up, smiling and saying, "Like father, like daughter! Arthur's girl is tougher than the boys! A future cop! Good for her!" But no one expected that a year later, I would be expelled for insubordination. The day I brought my bags home, my father's eyes were bloodshot. It was the first time I ever saw him cry. He gripped his leather belt tightly, but only hit me twice before he turned it on himself, sobbing. "I failed to raise you right! It's all my fault!" That night, we held each other and cried until dawn. From that day on, my father could no longer hold his head high in the neighborhood. His straight back slowly bent. He stayed hidden in the apartment, no longer going out to chat or play chess. He was terrified someone would bring me up. He dreaded the mockery, but he dreaded the pity even more. Ten years passed like that. Meanwhile, I took a path completely opposite to the one he dreamed of. I became a street thug. At first, he yelled at me and hit me, using every lecture and moral argument he knew to try and bring me back to the right path. But when he realized I wasn't going to change, he completely gave up. He cut off all contact and changed the locks on the door. Even if I waited outside all night, all I got was a look of absolute, burning hatred. The bond between father and daughter was shattered. We became like enemies, entirely disconnected. So, seeing this acceptance letter... I couldn't believe he had actually kept it. A wave of ancient bitterness, buried deep within his heart for a decade, enveloped me. I could almost see him, in the dead of countless nights, holding this letter and weeping silently. Everything that happened had shattered his pride, and the image of him crying hit me squarely between the eyes like a bullet. 3 Time ticked by. My father just sat on the sofa, staring blankly from dawn until dusk. He only snapped out of it when his stomach growled. He stood up shakily, walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. It was packed with fresh ingredients and pre-cooked meals. I was stunned. I had bought all of this for him three days ago. Maybe it was a sixth sense, but three days ago, I felt an overwhelming urge to come home. I bought bags and bags of groceries and shoved them all into his fridge. He looked at me with the same disgust, yelling at me to get out. "Take your garbage and get out!" "The Sterling family doesn't need trash like you! Your stuff has blood on it! It stinks!" He cursed at me viciously, but I was used to it. I just replied calmly, "If it stinks, just soak it in ginger and scallion water to get the smell out." I took the ingredients into the kitchen, cooked a massive feast in silence, and then put on a smile. "Dad, we've never actually shared a drink. How about a couple of shots?" I don't know why, but for some reason, he didn't kick me out that day. Instead, he sat down at the table with a dark expression. We sat across from each other, neither knowing what to say. I took a few shots by myself. Once the alcohol hit, I turned to him. "Dad, it's been ten years. I know I've humiliated you out there." "But whether you believe me or not... I have never done anything truly bad." "I... I really have my reasons." Hearing that, before the shot glass even touched his lips, he slammed it onto the floor. "Reasons? I'm old, Mia, not blind." "What reason makes you disobey orders and throw away your badge?" "What reason makes you abandon your home for ten years to run with gangs?" "What reason makes you an expert in extortion, gambling, and violence? What reason turns you into a menace to society?!" My blood roared in my ears with shame. I felt the heat radiating from my body, but I couldn't say a single word. I wanted to scream that I wasn't a criminal, that I was an undercover cop! But the words died in my throat. His thin, weathered hand slammed hard on the table. His eyes were shining with tears and a desperate, agonizing hope. "Say it! If you really have a reason, is it something you can't even tell your own father?!" I stayed silent. To him, my silence was guilt. He flipped the table, glaring at me with raw, bitter disappointment. Every word he spoke felt like he was coughing up blood. "I'm asking you: how did I raise you?!" "I told you to be honest! To live with a clear conscience!" He struck his own chest hard, the sound echoing hollowly in the small room. "What did you do?! Do you have a clear conscience?!" With that, he slapped me across the face. My ear rang sharply, and the suppressed grief of a decade finally exploded. I shot to my feet and screamed back at him, completely losing control. "I, Mia Sterling, have a clear conscience for everything I have done!" He looked at me, trembling from head to toe, his eyes utterly devoid of hope. He stumbled backward. I reached out to catch him, but he shoved my hands away. "Dad..." I called out softly. But he shook his head, looking at me like I was a complete stranger. "Don't call me Dad. You are not my daughter." "My daughter died ten years ago." He looked at me, gritted his teeth, and with every ounce of his strength, forced out the final words. "And you're the one who killed her." He shoved me out the door. My vision blurred with tears as I practically ran toward the nearby woods. Clutching my phone, I couldn't stop myself from dialing that number. Before the other person could speak, I sobbed, "Please... I don't want to do this anymore. I want to be a real cop. In the light. Once this is over, you have to restore my file, please!" A heavy sigh echoed through the phone. There was a long pause. "Mia, you know this. You're the only one who successfully infiltrated the inner circle..." "Just give us one more year. In one year, we launch the final strike..." "A year! Always another year!" My voice grew hysterical. "It's always 'one more year'! It's been ten years! Sir, I am so tired." Without waiting for a response, I hung up the phone and broke down weeping. Watching my father pull the cold, leftover food from the fridge and force it into his mouth, a sharp pang of sorrow pierced my spectral heart. A knock echoed at the door. My father looked up, then glanced at the food on the table. He quickly swept it into the trash can. He took a few deep breaths before walking over to open the door. "You piece of trash, I told you, you are no longer my daughter! Don't you ever come back!" But as the door swung open, he froze. Standing there were several officers in full dress uniform. The officers instantly snapped to attention, their eyes red, and said softly, "We're here to bring our comrade, Mia Sterling, home." 4 My father instinctively frowned at the sight of the police. "What did she do this time?" He looked past the officers, searching the hallway for me. "I already kicked her out. This isn't her home, and she's not part of the Sterling family anymore. She's a menace. You don't need to bring her here. This isn't her house." His face flushed with anger as he tried to shut the door. The lead officer gently caught the door and shook her head. Before she could speak, her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at my father, her voice trembling. "Mr. Sterling... we are Mia's colleagues." My father froze completely. He didn't move. His jaw dropped. He understood the words perfectly, but putting them together... it didn't make any sense to an old man. "What did you say?" The lead officer opened her mouth, trying to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Behind her, several officers sniffled audibly. My father seemed to realize something. He swayed on his feet. The lead officer quickly reached out to support him, and he gripped her arm like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline. "You're lying. She told you to say this, didn't she? Did she get a life sentence? Is that why you're covering for her?" The officer took a deep, shaky breath and spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "Mr. Sterling, Mia died in the line of duty while deep undercover to dismantle the syndicate. She gave her life for this city." My father didn't hear a single word after that. He just stood there, staring into space, muttering the same phrase over and over. "Died in the line of duty." He couldn't believe it. The daughter who was sitting across from him drinking just three days ago was now dead. And he didn't understand how the daughter he had cursed, the daughter he had hated and resented for ten years, had suddenly earned the phrase "died in the line of duty." The words I had screamed at him during that dinner—I have a clear conscience—struck his heart like a bolt of lightning. He finally understood what I meant. He realized that I had never failed to live up to his expectations. I had been living by them every single day. Even when everyone I knew despised me, I never wavered. I walked alone in the absolute darkness to protect the light. In that moment, he felt every ounce of the agony I had endured. He couldn't control his expression anymore. The old man, who had barely shed a tear in his entire life, broke down sobbing, unable to even catch his breath. The lead officer held him tight, keeping him from collapsing onto the floor. Her voice was low and steady as she gently urged him, "Sir, please. Don't be sad. You have to come with us to bring her home." My father's eyes flickered with a faint light, and he murmured, "Yes... I need to bring her home." Supported by the officers, he walked out of the apartment, step by heavy step. By sheer coincidence, Mr. Henderson was walking by. Seeing the scene, he couldn't resist taking a jab. "What's this? Did your daughter finally get the death penalty? Hahahaha! Crying like a baby... going to see her one last time? Looks like God finally did you a favor and took her away!" My father didn't react to his cruel words. He just kept walking, completely numb. His only thought was seeing me one last time. One of the younger officers couldn't take it. He clenched his fists and lunged forward, but the lead officer pulled him back. She looked at Mr. Henderson and spoke with icy detachment. "Considering you're ignorant of the facts, I'll let this slide once. Mr. Sterling's daughter, Mia, is our comrade. If I hear you spewing garbage like that again, you'll spend the rest of your life in a cell." Leaving a dumbfounded Mr. Henderson standing in the hallway, the group continued forward. My father followed the police like a walking corpse until he reached my body. His face was entirely blank. When he stood next to the white sheet covering me, he seemed completely lost. He reached out several times to pull it back, but his hand froze, as if someone was holding it back. I knew why. He was terrified that if he pulled it back, it would really be me. He desperately hoped that as long as he didn't look, I was still alive somewhere out there.
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