"Oh, I forgot you can't drink milk. I'll get you almond milk in a moment," Mom hurriedly intervened, afraid of revealing that she cared more for her adopted daughter than me.

Dad slammed his cup on the table and scolded me irritably, "There's no need for all these special requests! You've spoiled her too much.

"She's just a child and already acts like she rules the house! We need to take Grace to arrange her school transfer soon. We don't have time to waste!"

If this had been my former self, I would have been heartbroken by these words and thrown a tantrum. Yet now, I feel only numbness.

I quietly sat in the corner of the table and noticed Grace eating with her head down, a smug smile playing at the corners of her lips. Yet when she looked up again, her little face was filled with sadness.

"Dad, please don't talk to Wendy like that. She's not like me. She'd been cherished and protected since she was little. It's natural for her to be a bit willful. It shows how much you love her."

My saintly parents were once again moved to tears. Perhaps they wondered how such an angelic little girl could exist in this world.

Meanwhile, I was cast as the spoiled child who had everything handed to her since birth, yet still couldn't behave properly. When they looked at me, their eyes reflected nothing but profound disappointment.

Nonetheless, I didn't care. I had practically severed ties with my parents in my previous life, and I no longer cared how they saw me.

I could easily please Grace if I played the role of a mindless, easily controlled little sister. Then I would still be Mom and Dad's good daughter, able to pick up the scraps of attention left over from what they gave Grace.

But I would let Grace know that the family love and affection she had schemed so hard to obtain meant nothing to me.

I had already vacated my original room when they returned home as a "family of three" after completing the school transfer procedures. I moved all my belongings to the unused nanny's quarters.

I didn't intentionally yield to Grace; I just wanted to preserve my private space.

Dad gently patted my head and said, "You're so considerate, Wendy. You're truly a good daughter of mine."

These words might have pleased a young child, but I heard the subtext, having lived through this once before. I would only be worthy of being his "good daughter" if I sympathized with Grace in everything like they did, sacrificing my own happiness to accommodate her.

Grace barged into my room uninvited to look around. Her little face suddenly turned pale when she saw the complete art set my parents had bought for me. She weakly collapsed into Mom's arms, crying.

"I wish I could draw carefree like Wendy," she sobbed.

Mom looked at me uncomfortably. She hesitated for a long time and finally said, "I'm sorry, Wendy, but could you put away your art supplies for now? To be considerate of Grace's feelings?"

There it was again. My living space had been continuously compressed since Grace's appearance, until eventually I wasn't even allowed to have my own hobbies and dreams.

It was the same in my previous life. Since Grace's eyes weren't good and she couldn't draw for extended periods, I was also forced to reduce my drawing time repeatedly.

Despite being the daughter of a painter, I couldn't freely purchase art supplies or attend training classes. It was simply because it would make Grace sad to see them.

Yet Grace could nestle in Dad's arms and learn to paint with his hand guiding hers. Each of her works was framed exquisitely, while my paintings could only be hidden at the very bottom of my art box.

The situation culminated at the critical moment when we both took our art university entrance exams. Grace supposedly had a sudden vision problem during the test and couldn't complete it. She then switched our names when submitting our papers.

When the admission results came out, I immediately recognized that the excellent test paper bearing Grace's name was actually mine. I begged Mom and Dad to support me, but they just held Grace, who was crying hysterically, and advised me to be more generous.

"Wendy, you can always retake the exam next year, but Grace doesn't have much time left. You know she could go blind at any moment!"

"Grace has had such a pitiful life. Just give in to her this once! You'll definitely pass next year!"

They made it sound so easy. Who knew how many hours I had secretly practiced, drawing late into the night until I nearly ruined my eyes because my natural talent didn't match Grace's?

I broke down and shouted, "Isn't it enough that she's stolen my parents? Does she have to steal my life too? Give me back my spot, or I'll leave this family forever!"

My defiance didn't bring any remorse from my parents—just an angry slap from Dad.

"If Grace's eyes weren't sick, do you think you could ever beat her? You have no artistic talent whatsoever. You'd be at the bottom of the class even if you got into art school!"

I held my stinging cheek, unable to believe these words had come from my biological father's mouth.

In the end, Grace took my place at the art university. Meanwhile, I became the laughingstock of everyone in our social circle.

I was the girl who lost to her adopted sister with impaired vision. I descended into a life of mediocrity when my artistic dreams were shattered.

I had already lost my passion for painting in this new life. So, I threw the entire art set into the trash in front of my parents. Dad's face darkened instantly, but they knew they were in the wrong and just awkwardly left with Grace.

Jake, who usually studied abroad, came home for a family reunion when summer vacation arrived. He also came back mainly to meet our legendary new sister, Grace.

Just like in my previous life, Grace completely enchanted Jake from their first meeting. She had covered her eyes with a cloth, pretending to be blind as she fumbled her way through the hall. She then "coincidentally" fell right into Jake's arms during their first encounter.

Grace blushed and said sweetly, "Because I don't know when I might go blind, I want to learn to live in darkness first so that I won't burden Mom, Dad, and you in the future."

Grace was so clever with her words. She subtly excluded me while hinting to Jake that we didn't get along.

The young and impulsive Jake was speechless with emotion. The girl before him was as pitiable as the pure-hearted heroine from a drama. He immediately vowed to take care of Grace for the rest of his life.

My parents suggested that we all go out for a day of fun to welcome Jake home. I didn't want to join them.

After all, what did their perfect family of four have to do with me, the temperamental, jealous, difficult daughter that no one loved?

Even then, Grace had to make things difficult for me. She hid in a corner, shedding delicate tears.

"Mom, Dad, you should just take Jake and Wendy without me. I would only spoil your family reunion."

Jake became anxious and gently wiped away Grace's tears.

"Why would you say that? We're family," Jake insisted.

Grace pretended to shy away from Jake's hand while casting a timid glance at me, as if silently accusing me of something.

Jake immediately shot me a vicious look. "Wendy! Why are you bullying Grace? How could you become this kind of person? You were never like this before!"

What kind of person had I become, exactly? The ones who had changed were them.

Mom, who once thought of me first in everything; Dad, who was strict but gentle; and Jake, who always protected me, had all become strangers to me.

I smiled coldly, looking straight into Jake's eyes as I answered, "Why don't you ask Grace? How exactly have I bullied her? I gave her my room—what more could she want?"

Grace grew nervous at my question, instinctively avoiding my gaze. Her fearful demeanor further ignited Jake's protective instincts, and he shouted at me without restraint.

"It's that superior attitude of yours that hurts her! Grace just arrived in our family, so it's only right that you accommodate her!"

Suddenly, I became the enemy who needed to be vanquished, while Jake transformed into the prince protecting his princess.

My saintly parents only took sides as usual. "Wendy, your brother rarely comes home. Don't make him angry. Quickly apologize to Jake and Grace."

I looked at this family, whose favoritism knew no bounds, and replied firmly word by word, "Grace can have whatever she wants from me because I don't care about those things. But making me apologize? Not a chance!"

I locked myself in my room after spitting these words, shutting out Jake's impotent rage and shouting. Later, the four of them spent a joyful day together. No one remembered to call home to check on me, nor did anyone remember to bring back food for me.

I would have felt incredibly wronged and might have gone on a hunger strike or even run away from home to make my parents feel guilty if this had been my previous life. But now I knew such actions would be futile and would only hurt myself.

I made myself a hearty bowl of instant noodles and spread out the supplementary textbooks I had secretly purchased.

I had been working diligently to improve myself since my rebirth, never daring to slack off for a single day. I would carve out my own path through my own efforts in this life. I had also decided to study medicine after careful consideration.

As a seven-year-old with the intelligence of my 20-something past life, I was far ahead of Grace academically. Grace's innocent victim act worked on my family with their savior complex, but it didn't work on school teachers—a failing grade was a failing grade.

I ranked first in our year at the end of the term, while Grace was near the bottom. Every time she was called in by teachers for her poor performance, Grace would cry and claim her eye condition was acting up due to stress.

Nonetheless, she stubbornly refused to transfer to a special school. She would throw the household into chaos during exam weeks.

My saintly parents attended her parent-teacher conferences together to spare Grace's feelings and prevent her from being looked down upon by classmates due to her adopted status, even when mine was scheduled for the same day.

My parents couldn't possibly be unaware that their favoritism had made me a target for mockery and bullying at school. My classmates called me the child who had life but no love.