I lost all my game skins.

I checked the IP address—turns out they’re all mine.
I contacted the game company and they compensated me three thousand.
Customer service said, “You never bought them in the first place.”
I don’t believe it. I checked every account under my name—and a strange new one pops up. It’s full of skins I lost.
The real-name verification is under my dad’s.
He’s been dead for two years.
I call my mom: “Is my dad not dead?”
She goes silent: “He thinks you’re low-skilled. He fakes his death, makes a smurf account, and guides you.”
I’m stunned: “Then where is he now?”
“The guy you cursed last time—‘support is a dog’—that was him.”
I look at my phone.
He just sent me a message: “Son, are you queuing for ranked matches tomorrow?”