When I was born, I was already a certified liar. That's a fact that everyone seems to agree with.

The truth is, my mom, who's a scientist, has implanted advanced chips into me and my fraternal twin brother, Ryan Hartwell, when we were still babies.

By right, as long as we lie or make mistakes, our mom will receive the devil signal from the chips. Then, she'll administer electrical shocks as a form of punishment.

Ryan's chip often transmits the smiley signal. Even if he destroys our mom's research equipment and pins the blame on me, his chip still has the smiley branded on it.

Meanwhile, when I reach home ten minutes later than usual because I had to help out a classmate, my chip transmits the scary devil signal.

The next thing I know, I've already crippled to the floor from the intense pain caused by the electrical shock.

At first, I'll still explain to Mom what happened. But she often exclaims, "Don't think you can pull off clever little tricks just like that gambling father of yours! The chip is ten thousands times smarter than you! The punishments will only be branded into your bones if the pain is searing enough! What I'm doing is saving your life!"

After suffering from the pain countless times, I get brainwashed into thinking that I really am a liar and a troublemaker by nature.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Mom comes to the attic to tell Ryan to join the family at the table for the Christmas dinner.

That's when my asthma suddenly acts up, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor.

"I… I can't breathe… Save me, Mom…"

But Mom just coldly gazes at the devil signal that she has just received on her phone. Then, she dials the shock value to the maximum.

"You don't have asthma at all! Ugh, you're kicking up another fuss just to attract attention! Seriously, you never change your ways!"

After that, she takes Ryan's hand and leads him out of the attic. Soon, she slams the door heavily behind her.

As I suffer from asphyxiation while on my deathbed, I can't help but think that Mom is right. After all, my chip has just transmitted the devil signal.

Maybe the asthma attack really is just a figment of my imagination. I've always been a bad girl who loves lying to others, after all.

When Mom finds out that this is the last time I've ever lied to her, she must be really happy, right?

My mom, Claudia Evermore, was a brilliant scientist who never made mistakes. She always said I was an irredeemable liar. I endured both mental and physical torment from a young age, yet I had believed her without question, until that Christmas, when I was left to suffocate in the attic.

I felt like I was going to die, and panic surged. I could only gasp for air and crawl toward the door.

Footsteps thudded up the stairs. Mom hadn't left.

I trusted that Mom, the nationally renowned scientist, could save me. A glimmer of hope stirred in my heart.

"Jessie Hartwell, Ryan's hungry. What are you waiting for? I booked your seat at the restaurant. Don't make me regret it," Mom said, staring at me like I was completely hopeless.

She had been burning with fever last night, and I had stayed up all night to care for her, just for the chance to join her and Ryan for Christmas dinner. There was no way I was giving up now.

"Mom, I really can't breathe… It hurts so much…" I gasped, reaching for her in desperation.

She swatted my hand away and shoved her phone in my face.

"Jessie! You're at it again—lying and causing trouble at all the wrong times, just like your father. A leopard can't change its spots! Stay here and reflect. You can come out when you've really learned your lesson."

Ryan called out from outside that he was hungry. Mom responded immediately. She pushed me aside with a trace of annoyance before getting up to leave. My fingertips brushed against her velvet long skirt, but my touch was fleeting, and I grasped nothing.

I pounded my chest, but the air wouldn't come.

Mom locked the door behind her. From outside, Ryan said softly, "Jessie doesn't want to eat with us. Isn't she hungry?"

Mom's voice drifted back faintly, tinged with irritation. "Missing a single meal won't kill her. She needs to learn a lesson. Anyway, there are emergency compressed biscuits in the attic…"

Those emergency biscuits were long gone. Ryan had used them to paint dark, creepy images all over the walls. When Mom came home and saw the mess, she was furious and demanded to know who was responsible.

Ryan blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Not me."

I whispered, "Not me either."

As I shrank back and looked at Mom, I saw the little devil she had created.

She slapped me across the face. "Jessie! Not only do you look like your dad, but your personality is also just as dark and cunning! I regret having you!"

She always said I was like Dad, but I had never even seen him. The slap shot through me like electricity. I wondered how her hand could be so soft yet hurt so much. Even now, the pain left me numb and trembling.

Tears ran down my face as I pressed my body against the door, gasping for air. Darkness crept into my vision. The house below was silent, lit only by the faint purple glow of the display screen. It had to be my imagination. I didn't have asthma—I was lying, and this was the cost of my lies.

I remembered all the times I had messed up, and Mom had made me write an essay of self-reflection. With no pen or paper in the attic, I bit my finger and scrawled my apology on the door.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm a bad child. I promise I won't lie again, but it hurts so much. I'm terrified. I feel like I'm dying. Mom, please give me another chance."

Exhaustion drained me. My letters became messy, and the suffocating pressure only grew, swallowing me whole. I sank to my knees, losing all sense of time.

Then, a flash of blinding white light appeared. The weight lifted, and I felt lighter than ever.

When I opened my eyes, I was floating in midair. Below me, my body lay motionless against the door.

I was dead, but I still hadn't broken my habit of lying. Would Mom ever forgive me?

When Mom returned with Ryan, it was already late at night.

I drifted through the narrow staircase and quickly floated over to them. "You're back!"

They were chatting happily, completely absorbed in their conversation. Neither of them heard me. Mom even cupped Ryan's cheeks and kissed him several times in a row.

"Ryan, you're such a little genius. You even know about integrated circuits and Moore's Law! I'll make sure to nurture your talents so that one day you'll achieve even more than I ever did."

Integrated circuits and Moore's Law?

"I told Ryan about those! Mom, can you kiss me too?" I said.

I floated closer and tried to nuzzle against Mom's cheek, only to watch helplessly as I passed straight through her.

I nearly forgot. I was dead.

Mom never praised me when I was alive. How could I expect anything now that I was gone?

Ryan rubbed his cheek against her shoulder and promised earnestly, "I will."

Mom rubbed the back of her neck and glanced toward the window, looking slightly uneasy. "The windows are closed, aren't they? Why is there still a draft?"

Hearing that, Ryan quickly ran to the fireplace and turned up the heat.

Mom's expression softened immediately. She looked at him with warmth and pride. "Ryan, you really are my sweet boy. If only your lying sister were half as easy to handle as you…"

The warmth in Mom's eyes disappeared, replaced by impatience and irritation. She set her bag down and made her way to the attic.

"Jessie, have you realized your mistake yet?"

She pushed the door open and found me slumped over my knees, with my back turned to her. I stayed silent.

"You won't speak? Do you honestly think I can't detect the devil signal from the chip just because you're quiet?

"Jessie, you're 11 now. You're not a baby. Are you expecting me to coax you downstairs and tuck you in?"

I floated beside Mom and watched her face twitch with anger as she cranked the electric shock dial higher and higher.

"Mom, please, don't be angry. I'm already dead. I didn't mean to upset you..."

She still couldn't hear me. Her fury only intensified.

"Fine, then stay silent. Your Dad lied, cheated, and gambled. He ended up getting hacked to death, and I guess you want to follow in his footsteps. Since you're so fond of the attic, stay here tonight. Stay here forever!"

The door slammed with a thunderous bang, dislodging a loose wooden board from the attic ceiling.

I flinched, but for some reason, I felt a strange flicker of relief.

It seemed that Mom truly loved me. She just couldn't bear the thought of me turning out like Dad.

I floated after her downstairs and saw Ryan standing before a towering pile of Christmas presents.

"Mom, are all of these for me?"

Mom smiled. "Of course. Except for that workbook over there, they're all yours. How I wish I had only had you."

Could someone still feel heartache after dying?

It hurt even more than it ever did when I was alive.

Numb, I drifted back to the attic. At some point, a storm had begun to rage outside.

Thunder rolled, and lightning split the sky.

A loose board had fallen beside me. Above, the attic roof had collapsed in part, and sheets of rain poured through.

In an instant, I was drenched.

Years of electric shocks had left me terrified of thunderstorms. Each flash of lightning made my heart race. I always felt as if a bolt might hit me at any moment.

The storm intensified. I was still wearing the cartoon pajamas I had begged Mom for last year, but now they were miserably soaked through.

The heavy rain drenched everything, and in the corner, my thin body stayed still, teetering on the edge of collapse.

I floated helplessly above my body, trying to soothe myself, though I knew it was useless.

"It's okay. Everything will be over soon."

The morning sun finally broke through the clouds. Mom had set the table for breakfast for the three of us and opened my door, only to find me still in the attic. Her temper flared immediately. "How can you be this dumb? The door wasn't even locked, and you still haven't come back to your room?"

If I had heard this in the past, I might have believed Mom was strict on the outside but gentle at heart, that she cared for me. However, after a night of heavy rain, with my body getting soaked and then drying, that thought had vanished.

Ryan ran upstairs and opened the attic door. "Jessie, come out and eat!" he called.

Then, he turned to Mom. "She's still sleeping!"

Mom frowned deeply. "Is she a pig? How can she sleep this long?"

She hurried upstairs, and when she saw me still in the same position from the night before, she froze. "Jessie, you stayed like this all night?"

She snapped, "Are you sulking at me? What did I say that was wrong? Even now, your signal is all devil! Was I born to suffer because of you? Aren't you getting up? Who taught you to throw tantrums like this? I've treated you and Ryan exactly the same from the start, so why do you always come up short?"

Mom walked toward me. Just as her hand was about to reach me, Ryan suddenly called out, "Mom, can we go now? I can't wait to ride the pirate ship with you!"

Mom glared at me for a moment, then clenched her teeth in anger. "Fine. If you won't talk, you won't get breakfast or go to the amusement park. Walk out of that door on your own, or don't expect me to care about you!"

This time, she left so quickly that I didn't even notice which cute cartoon doll Ryan had pinned on her. I didn't even manage to finish saying, "Mom, don't ignore me."

I tried to chase after her, but I soon realized I was trapped in the house like a ghost. Mom had only taken me to an amusement park once, when I was six. The moment we walked in, I needed the bathroom. The devil signal convinced her I was lying, and I was locked in the restroom all day.

By the time the fireworks were finished, Mom finally came to get me.

After that, she never took me to an amusement park again. Ryan, however, went every year.

I stared at the spot on my scalp where the chip had been implanted. For the first time, a thought crossed my mind. Was my chip really the same as Ryan's? It couldn't be. It had to be different.

Mom's invention had made her famous nationwide for scientific parenting, so the problem had to be me. I was the useless one, just like the father I had never even met.

Mom and Ryan didn't return until late that evening. She glanced into my room, snorted coldly, and walked away. After a while, she left some snacks and a blanket outside the attic door.

For the next three days, she never climbed the narrow stairs again. The fireplace kept the house warm, and with the rain falling again and again, my body was soaked and dried repeatedly until a sour smell began to spread.

Ryan nearly gagged when he passed the stairs. "Mom, it smells horrible. What's that smell?"

Mom let out a cold sneer. "Your lying sister probably hasn't showered. Of course it smells."

She pulled a curtain across the stairway and sprayed some perfume. "There. Come on, Ryan. I'm taking you to the zoo!"

By the seventh day after my death, the perfume and curtain could no longer hide the smell of my decaying body. Mom frowned as she climbed the stairs, gagging again and again until she finally put on a mask.

The snacks and blanket outside the attic door hadn't been touched. Her hand trembled slightly on the doorknob.

I couldn't contain my excitement. "Mom, open the door! Please notice me!"

The lock slowly turned. Mom muttered under her breath, "It can't be anything serious, right?"