"Hana!" Mother's shriek pierced the air as she rushed forward. "What happened to you? Dear God, what happened?!"

Hana spotted Mio in the living room and seemed to suddenly regain awareness. She stumbled into Mother's embrace, dissolving into tears.


"Sister... you're here... I thought... I thought you'd gone to that club..." Her words came in broken gasps, laden with fear and accusation. "I heard you went to that dangerous place with someone. I was so worried I went looking for you... but I couldn't find you anywhere... then... then..."

She broke off, dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

Our parents' minds seemed to short-circuit simultaneously. Their precious daughter, in an attempt to rescue her sister, had nearly come to harm!


Father's gaze sliced toward Mio like a blade: "Mio! Tell us the truth! What exactly happened?!"

"I didn't do anything! I swear!" Mio began crying in panic. "Sister wanted to go to the club herself—I never went anywhere!"


"You dare lie to our faces!"

"Please, everyone calm down." One officer stepped forward, gesturing toward the stranger. "When we arrived, Miss Hana was unharmed."

Our parents appeared to exhale collectively before turning their attention to the stranger. "Speak! Who put you up to this?" Father thundered.

The man deliberately glanced at Mio before lowering his gaze, feigning reluctance: "...I can't say... I was just drunk, that's all."

"Tell us the truth, and we'll handle this privately! Refuse, and I'll have you charged immediately!"

The man hesitated briefly before muttering, "I was drunk! That's why... why I made a mistake! That's all it was, don't push me—"

His evasiveness only convinced our parents that he was concealing something. Father roared: "Tell us the truth now!"

"Perhaps this is the truth?" I interjected calmly. "Father, why are you demanding some specific 'truth'? Do you suspect your daughter arranged this entire scenario?"

I understood them perfectly—their favoritism had reached pathological proportions.

Though they had wronged Mio terribly, their years of emotional investment in Hana meant she still held their hearts.

Mio stood ashen-faced, utterly unprepared for such a confrontation. She stammered: "I never told anyone to do anything, I don't understand—"

Father had regained some composure. "Since the police are present, we'll have this man detained. We're pressing charges!"

Hana continued her performance, tears streaming down her face: "Father, please have the police question him thoroughly. They must have used my sister as bait to lure me there—because I've been protecting her at school, which angered certain people. They wanted revenge against me!"

Her performance was masterful and deeply affecting.

The officer moved to take the man's arm. "You'll need to come to the station for questioning."

The man began to struggle. "No—I can't have a record! Please, I'm begging you!"

Father waved dismissively: "Remove him. I've heard enough."

As the police began forcing him toward the door, the man suddenly jerked upright, pointing at Mio with dramatic flair: "It was her! She ordered me to do it! She claimed she was the true Ryuuji daughter—that Miss Hana had stolen her happiness for over a decade! She couldn't stand it anymore and wanted to destroy Miss Hana completely!"

"I didn't! I never said any of that!" Mio's world seemed to tilt on its axis as she desperately protested her innocence.

But the man produced a small voice recorder from his pocket.

"She worried I wouldn't believe her, so she recorded this message herself and sent it to me. Listen!"

He pressed play, and instantly a voice identical to Mio's emerged—dripping with malice and jealousy. The evidence seemed irrefutable.

The living room fell deathly silent.

Our parents' expressions transformed as they stared at Mio—from shock to disappointment to utter revulsion.

Mindful of potential scandal, Father requested the police depart.

Hana nestled into Mother's embrace, regarding Mio with calculated sorrow as she enunciated each word with precision:

"You nearly destroyed my life!... And to think I genuinely welcomed you as my sister—even felt I owed you something!"

These words were the final blow that shattered Mio completely.

She stood in the center of the room, abandoned by the world, her face a mask of ash.

I remained in the shadows, silently observing it all.

So this was your endgame all along, wasn't it, Hana?
Feigning sisterly devotion, lulling Mio into trust, then executing this perfect coup to destroy her standing with our parents.

After that night, Mio became a ghost in our home—visible yet untouchable.

Her place at the dining table vanished without comment. Meals appeared at her door three times daily, delivered by servants with blank faces who later collected the trays with equal detachment.

Our parents would converse animatedly with Hana in the living room, and when Mio passed by, they behaved as though she were invisible—no eye contact, no acknowledgment. As if she were a contagion that might infect the very air.

Hana's "concern" became a carefully measured performance. She would occasionally knock on Mio's door, her face arranged in precisely calibrated sorrow and regret.

"Mio, are you alright? Regardless of what you've done, you're still my sister. Let me know if you need anything."

Each time, Mio would simply stare at her in silence.

Eventually, Hana tired of the charade and ceased her visits.

I bided my time, waiting for the perfect moment. After a full week of this silent torture, when her spirit and dignity teetered on the brink of collapse, I opened her door.

She lay curled on the bare floor, knees hugged to her chest like a discarded doll. At the sound of the door, she didn't even look up, likely assuming it was merely a servant with another meal.

I locked the door behind me.

At the sound of the lock engaging, she finally lifted her head. Seeing me, her eyes flickered with fear and wariness.

I approached, crouched before her, and met her gaze directly.

"Do you feel abandoned and wronged?" I asked quietly.

My words acted like a key, unlocking the emotional dam she'd desperately maintained for seven days. Tears fell like broken pearls, large and silent.

She regarded me with trembling lips, making small, wounded animal sounds: "Sister... even you... don't believe me?"

"I believe you."

My voice wasn't raised, but in her world of deathly silence, it crashed like thunder. She jerked her head up, staring at me in disbelief.

"I believe you didn't do it," I repeated deliberately, each word distinct. "And I understand exactly how you feel. Because once, I was you."

My fingertips brushed the hair at my temple, though the scar beneath had long been hidden.