It was Saturday when a new guest arrived at our estate, exhausted from her long journey.

My biological sister—lost for years and finally found.


As the girl called "Mio" was escorted into the grand foyer of the Ryuuji mansion, I watched silently from the curved balcony above.

Obsidian floors gleamed like black mirrors beneath her feet. Priceless antiques nestled in wall alcoves, and modern masterpieces adorned every surface—all silently rejecting her presence. Her dress hung faded and limp; her sneakers were caked with mud. Her face was ghostly pale, the unmistakable mark of chronic malnutrition, devoid of any vitality.

She was my flesh and blood—the sister who had vanished from our lives sixteen years ago.


"Ah, Mio. Come here, dear."

Mother's voice rang with forced brightness. Beside her stood my other "sister"—Hana—poised and wearing a flawless smile. She'd changed into a pristine white dress for the occasion, making her appear bathed in celestial light, almost painfully radiant.


Father crossed his arms, his displeasure evident as he muttered: "...Come in. Has everything been verified?"

"Yes, dear," Mother replied, "The DNA test results are... conclusive."

Mio trembled at these words, like a rabbit sensing a predator.

She bore all the hallmarks of someone who had endured significant hardship—timid, wary, perpetually braced for impact.

In that moment, Hana glided forward with practiced elegance.

"Father, Mother. I'm absolutely thrilled that my sister has returned to us."

She approached Mio and, without a moment's hesitation, clasped Mio's grimy hands between her own. Mio's shoulders hunched instinctively at the contact.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mio. I'm your sister Hana. From this day forward, we're true sisters. I can't wait to know everything about you."

"Ah... um..." Mio attempted to respond, her voice barely a whisper, the words dissolving before they could form.

"My, such a tiny voice. You must be exhausted," Hana said, her face a portrait of compassion. "Don't worry about a thing. I've already prepared your room—right next to mine. You'll adore it, won't she, Mother?"

"Yes, absolutely. All thanks to Hana's foresight..." Mother's smile betrayed her relief.

Hana nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Mio: "Don't worry about a thing. I know every inch of this house. If you have any questions at all, just ask me. No need to be shy—we're sisters, after all."

"...Okay... thank you..."

"What are you thanking me for? It's only natural," Hana's smile remained perfect. "By the way, do you like my dress? Father gave it to me as an early birthday gift. Soon, we'll have dozens made for you as well. You look absolutely wretched in those clothes."

I caught the flicker of shame in Mio's eyes as she self-consciously fingered her threadbare garments.

"I'm curious, Mio... where have you been living all this time?" Hana cocked her head with practiced innocence. "Look at your hands—they're so calloused. Mother doesn't even let me load the dishwasher."

"I... I worked in the fields... and did laundry for everyone... everything..."

Hana's eyes widened theatrically at this halting confession.

"Oh my goodness! Really? All alone?"

"...Yes."

"How dreadful..." Hana's brow furrowed in a perfect simulation of empathy. "But those days are behind you now. From today, you'll stay with me, take lessons, learn piano—just do whatever brings you joy, okay?"

"...Mm..."

Mio finally broke, fat tears rolling down her hollow cheeks as she nodded. The sight was almost unbearably pathetic—a creature too beaten down to hope.

Our parents watched Hana's performance with undisguised pride. No doubt they considered their adopted daughter's apparent generosity to be their crowning achievement as parents.

"Tsukiyo, come down here. Why are you lurking up there?" Mother's head snapped toward me, her tone razor-sharp. "Can't you do something about that gloomy demeanor of yours? Why can't you be more like your sister?"

Hana offered a gentle smile: "Mother, please don't scold her. That's just how sister is."

My "sister" had always been so conveniently "understanding."

I gave Hana a measured look before descending the stairs. Approaching my true sister, I said simply: "Hello, Mio. I'm Tsukiyo, your elder sister."

Mio's lips quivered: "Sister."

I touched her cheek gently—her small face so vulnerable it ached to look at. "You've endured much, but you're home now. You're family."

I gazed at her with genuine warmth, my voice soft, and her tears flowed freely.

My own heart constricted painfully.

Mother patted Mio's head. "From now on, I expect all three of you to get along."

Hana beamed: "Of course! I'll take wonderful care of my sister."

Only I caught the momentary shadow that crossed Hana's eyes.

Would Hana truly care for her sister?

I felt my lips twist slightly, doubt coiling in my chest.

The following morning, Hana rose at dawn, announcing her intention to take her sister shopping for "proper clothes."

She had dressed with particular care, wearing the couture gown our parents had purchased for her birthday—at her specific request.

Every inch the fairy-tale princess.

Beside her, Mio still wore her shabby clothes, the contrast making her appear even more like Cinderella before the ball. The inferiority in her eyes deepened visibly.

"Those new clothes Father and Mother bought you don't fit, do they?" Hana's smile was knowing, her tone perfectly innocent. "They used my measurements, you see. I suppose they didn't realize how much you'd suffered—how small and thin you'd become. Perhaps it's best if you just wear what you have for now?"

Her words dripped with subtle cruelty.

But Mio missed the barb entirely. She lowered her gaze and murmured, "Those clothes are too beautiful. I'm afraid I'd soil them."

"That's true," Hana smiled. "You were absolutely covered in filth yesterday. Those lovely clothes would be ruined in minutes."

Mio nodded meekly.

Hana's lips formed a practiced pout before she turned to me with wide, innocent eyes: "Sister, haven't you prepared a welcome gift for Mio?"

On cue, Mother's gaze snapped to me. "That's right—why haven't you given your sister anything? Hana already presented her with that lovely bracelet!"

Since childhood, Hana had competed relentlessly for our parents' affection, systematically poisoning their perception of me. This moment was no exception.

Before everyone, I removed the jade pendant—a talisman of protection—from around my neck. "I want my sister to have this, so she may never suffer again. May it transform her misfortunes into blessings and bring her peace."

Hana's expression curdled instantly.