Chapter 9

It was when I was six years old that I first met my older sister. She was the daughter of the woman my father was going to remarry.

My sister was a beautiful girl. Though I had heard she was eight, she had loosely wavy brown hair and large, sapphire-like eyes. The color combination was the most common in this country, but her small, upturned nose and plump, soft-looking rosy lips made her a beautifully proportioned girl, like a doll. I was captivated at first sight. The thought that such a beautiful person would become my sister filled my heart with a sweet feeling. Looking back, it was my first love at first sight.

When my sister opened her delicate lips and spoke to me, she said:

"Oh, what peculiar eye color. It's so distracting."

Her tone was full of contempt.

I heard the sound of my first love shattering into pieces within seconds of meeting her. This heterochromia was one of my complexes. I had never found it particularly ugly, but there was no one else with such eyes, and wherever I went, people whispered and giggled. Perhaps there were some positive comments, but being whispered about only hurt me. To have my most sensitive spot spoken of so harshly to my face was painful.

My father and stepmother loved each other, and it was certain that this girl would become my sister. But every time I saw her face, I was reminded and hurt, so I didn't want to get close to her.

Despite this, every time my sister saw me, she came over and spewed insults.

"Spending the whole day reading in the library again? You're guaranteed to become weak in the future."

She taunted me with a nasty, sticky tone.

"Leave me alone. I do exercise properly."

"Oh, oh. Exercise is good, but don't cry from muscle pain. It would be embarrassing."

"Can you even talk about others?"

"Hehe. I always strive to be the best. As someone in a higher position."

My sister, as she declared, never slacked off in her studies or exercise, which made me feel envious. I knew she was often praised by her tutors for her academic performance. The tutor didn't seem to evaluate her character, saying to me, "Don't be like Miss Loreta." I hated my sister, but I didn't like being spoken ill of either, so I protested to the tutor, "Don't speak ill of my sister!"

"Oh, Father. Is it from drinking too much that you've gained weight in middle age?"

"It might be. I'll be more careful."

Both my father and stepmother listened to my sister's words with a smile, no matter what she said. Even during family dinners, her insults didn't stop.

"Loreta, how is the new pillow?"

"It's fine, I suppose."

Knowing that it was the craftsman's best work, I felt a surge of ill will at my sister's lukewarm evaluation.

"Alto, you have wrinkles between your eyebrows. It's very unattractive."

When pointed out by my sister, I turned away and continued eating. She really had a nasty personality. She was so beautiful when she was quiet.

After dinner, I was alone with my father.

"Father, isn't my sister lacking in manners?"

I couldn't say this to my stepmother, so I told my father, who laughed.

"Loreta is different, but she's a very good girl. Her tone is interesting once you get used to it. Loreta will be strong once she finds someone who understands her."

Father laughed it off.

"But... my sister has a bad character."

I pouted. Every time she opened her mouth, it was full of insults. Especially among the family, she seemed to dislike me the most, always speaking nastily to me. With such a personality, she would surely never find a husband.

"...... Why do you think there was a dessert with lots of blueberries today?"

Father suddenly said.

"?"

Why? I didn't understand. The menu was usually left to the chef.

"Because you read so much, your eyes must be tired. Loreta asked the chef to make it specially for you."

I listened to this in disbelief. My sister? For me? It seemed impossible.

"You won't understand Loreta's 'flavor' until you grow up a bit more."

I made a bitter face at Father's words. It felt like I was the only one being treated like a child, the only one who didn't understand my sister, and it wasn't at all amusing.

If I didn't like it, I should just ignore her, but I couldn't because she was a "concerning presence," which was frustrating.

"Why does my sister always pick on me like this?"

Whenever I asked, she always said, "Because you're distracting."

I was sure she must really dislike me. Every time I heard that answer, my heart ached. I hated my sister.