Why am I writing to you again, sister, when I know I wonāt even send this letter?
Even though itās only autumn outside, this room is freezing and dark. And sitting in the darkness all alone, I canāt help but think.
And, when I do, I find my fingers reaching for a pen. Because, what else can I do?
I canāt really tell what Iām writing, since itās so dark I donāt even know if these words can be read. I wonder if they even reflect the words in my mind?
Speaking of which, dear sister. I sometimes hear voices calling to me from the other side of the door.
I know who they are, as well. Theyāre Viscount Philip Neumann, as well as his wife, Anne. I havenāt responded for days, even months, but they still believe that Iāll answer them when they speak.
Itās true, it wouldnāt be hard to say something. I could even just give them a short reply. Iām sure that the people on the other side of the door would be moved to tears if they heard anything. They would want to embrace me. Me, the person despised by the entire country.
But, you know, dear sister? I just canāt answer them. Because I donāt know just how I should call out to them.
In the past, I called them my father and mother. They were probably the people I loved the most in the world. Thinking back, the time when I didnāt know anything and thought that they were my parents really was the happiest time in my life.
But, now I know that was all a lie.
Iām the daughter of the Storm family, and your sister. Just why are they still taking care of me like this, even though they arenāt my real parents? Just what is the reason for their kindness? Is it out of respect for the Storm family? Is it to appear charitable in the public eye? Or do they just pity me?
As soon as I was born, I was given over to the Neumann family, then I was returned to the Storm family, and now I find myself in the Neumann home again. I keep being pushed one way or another, coming and going. I wonder just where Iāll end up next?
Ah, I hear another voice. The person who I used to call mother is crying.
She wants to hear my voice. She wants just a word, or even a glimpse of me. She sounds desperate. The reason why she sounds more desperate than usual, I know that too.
Both she and Viscount Neumann are being coerced to return me to my father, Count Storm. He hasnāt threatened them directly, but the meaning is clear. If Iām given over to them, then he will help the Neumann family. If they donāt, their finances will be destroyed, and the two of them will be thrown out into the streets.
I donāt think thereās any way the man who was my father can go against this. Even though he is only a mere Viscount, he has his position to think about, as well as the servants who rely on him for their livelihood. If my former mother becomes sick again as well, then heāll need money to have a doctor look at her.
Itās impossible for them to keep going on like this. Theyāre not strong people. Some day soon, Iāll be dragged out of this room and taken to the Storm family estate.
But, before that happens, they want to see my face one last time. They want to pretend to be my mother and father, at least whilst Iām still here.
Itās ridiculous. Even though things are so dire, they still want to play family. Even though sheās not my real mother, sheās been call i ng o ut my name for so lo
The ink was smudged.
Since itās so dark, itās hard to write properly.
I hope she gives up and leaves soon. Whenever I hear her, my head hurts. Iām tired of thinking about all this, I donāt want to think about anything anymore.
Hey, big sister, tell me, what should I have done?
What would you do in this situation, sister?
Iām sure my thick, simple and impatient big sister would never have let herself rot away in this room. Back in the old days, you always used to happily do whatever you liked, sister, without even thinking about the consequences.
But, at that timeā¦ do you remember, sister?
Iāve been locked up like this before. Unlike my sister, Iām quite the delicate child, I canāt take things as easily as you do. But, that time was especially bad. It was when I realized that the Neumann family werenāt my real parents.
I stayed in my room, just like now, and didnāt let anyone see me. Not the maids or servants who knocked, nor the people who called themselves my parents who called out to me.
Iām sure you donāt remember this at all, do you, sister? Since you donāt particularly care about me at all, right?
But, I remember it. It was from that day that I began to hate the big sister of mine that I loved so much.
Then, one day when I was still locking myself away, you climbed through my window, big sister, and forced your way in.
Then, when you saw me crying on the bed, you pulled me by the arm and said;
āI donāt know why youāve locked yourself up. Just what is your problem? If you have something to say, then just say it!ā
You really are a simple and straight forward person. Thatās how my big sisterās world is, after all.
Someone with real parents, someone who is too stupid to worry about the consequences, someone who can say whatever they like without a care. Someone who can happily live without knowing who their true sister really is.
But, thereās no way I could have been like that. The people who call themselves my parents arenāt my real parents, I know when Iām being pushed away or treated coldly, I was abandoned by my real mother and father, and my older sister never even knew who I really was. But, what should I say? Should I tell the two people who call through the door that āyouāre not my real parents.ā?
ā¦No. You wouldnāt say such a thing either, dear sister.
I am sure that my sister would be even more honest and frank than that. You wouldnāt worry about the other personās feelings.
You wouldnāt have to worry about inconveniencing those around you, you would simply say whatever you wanted, like always.
I really am jealous of you, big sister. I wish I could do that too. I hate that about you, sister. Iāve always wanted a big sister like that. Because, I couldnāt do something like that myself.