To transfer my sister, Suri Voss, who was 13 years younger than I was, to a new school district, I took 7 days of annual leave and went back to my hometown. I pulled strings, delivered gifts, called in favors, and finally forced a spot for her in the best middle school in the city.

At last, when I could pause long enough to catch my breath, I told Mom, who was heading out to buy groceries, that I wanted grilled pork ribs for dinner.

Suri walked over with a cold expression, then threw a full glass of icy water straight onto my head and pointed at my face as she exploded.

"You country leech, mooching off our family for years, eating our food and living in our house whenever you feel like it. I let all that slide. Now you want to steal my mom too? Do you have any shame at all?!

"Listen carefully, Mom only has one child. She will only ever love me!"

I stood there, stunned. Suri had no idea I was Mom’s biological daughter, too. All this time, she had treated me as some freeloading relative.

I looked toward the doorway, where Mom was changing her shoes to go out. She seemed not to have heard a single word of Suri’s disrespect. She merely said casually, "Suri doesn’t like ribs. Let’s have grilled shrimp instead."

She had forgotten that I’ve been severely allergic to seafood since childhood.

I lowered my head and let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

Unbeknownst to them, if I could secure Suri a place in that school, I could just as easily make sure she lost it.

Thirteen years separate Suri and me. By the time she was born, I had already started boarding school, coming home only once a month.

After I left for Northbridge University in Grayhaven, and later, when I stayed on to work in Halcyon City, I returned even less often. Sometimes I only came back a few days every six months, or even once a year.

Whenever I did come back, I could feel the way Suri looked at me with cold eyes, and the vague hostility she never bothered to hide.

I hadn’t paid much attention at the time. I assumed she was just shy and that she didn’t really know this older sister, who was hardly ever around.

Until today.

Suri lifted a brimming glass of ice water and dumped it straight over my head, soaking me from scalp to skin, cold enough to seep into my bones.

That was when I finally realized that Suri wasn’t merely unfamiliar with me. She seemed not to know I was her sister at all.

"Hey! Didn’t you hear what I said? Get out of my house right now! Our family has already been more than generous to you. You’re the one who doesn’t know your place, still trying to steal my parents from me!"

Her shrill voice stabbed at my ears. My hair clung to my scalp, dripping. My soaked clothes stuck cold against my skin, making irritation crawl through me.

Still, she was my biological sister, and she was young. I forced my anger down and pulled out a strained smile.

"Suri, I’m your sister. I’m also Mom and Dad’s daughter. It’s just that after you were born, I was busy and didn’t have much time to stay home with you…" I spoke gently, patiently, trying to soothe her.

Alas, the apology or understanding I expected never came.

Instead, Suri’s small face flushed a furious red, her eyes blazing with raw hatred.

"You’re lying!" she screamed in a thin, piercing voice. "I’m the only one Mom and Dad love. I’m going to beat you to death!"

Suri raised her hand high, then hurled the glass straight at my forehead.

I had no time to react. Something flashed across my vision, then a sharp explosion of pain tore through my temple as the thick glass shattered against my head.

Blood poured instantly from the wound, splattering onto the floor in vivid red droplets. Some shards embedded themselves in my skin, barely millimeters from my eye.

For a child to strike that hard, she had clearly meant to cause real harm.

The anger that had been building inside me finally snapped. No matter her age, attacking someone with a weapon deserved consequences.

Clutching my bleeding forehead, I struggled to push myself up—

Only for a crushing weight to slam down on my head.

Before I could react, Suri had dropped her full body onto me, sitting squarely on my skull. She bounced there, chanting viciously, "How dare you steal my parents, you witch? I’m going to stomp you into the ground!"

Beneath my face lay the broken glass Suri had just smashed. When she dropped her weight onto me, I barely had time to throw my arms up to shield my eyes.

The lower half of my face and my forearms were driven straight into the jagged shards. They punched deep into my flesh, pain so intense it nearly knocked me unconscious.

Above me, Suri kept jumping up and down, each impact forcing the embedded glass deeper, grinding it through my skin.

I was an adult. Although I was injured, pain could unleash terrifying strength.

"That’s enough!" I twisted violently, throwing Suri off my head and scrambling to my feet.

Blood streamed from the gashes across my face. The shards were so large and rough. Under gravity, the fragments began to fall away with soft clattering sounds, leaving behind horrifying, crater-like wounds.

With my chest heaving, I covered my face, a scream tearing up my throat.

I don’t rely on my looks to make a living, but when you’re negotiating deals for a company, appearance is basic professionalism. Who would want to do business with someone whose face is covered in scars?

A surge of fury rose in my chest. I glared at Suri, who had just been flung to the floor.

She had been about to keep screaming, but when she saw my blood-smeared face and the look in my eyes, she recoiled two steps and burst into tears.

"Waaah—Mom! This weirdo is bullying me! Come save me!"

I didn’t care whether she was crying or not. I strode forward in two steps, grabbed her arm, and raised my hand, aiming to smack her across the backside.

"If Mom won’t discipline you, I will!

"You’ve been spoiled rotten—fed well, pampered, and given everything you want. Who taught you it’s okay to hit people? Who taught you that you can disrespect your sister like this?"

I didn’t think my words were that harsh. Yes, I was furious, but she was still my full-blooded younger sister.

If our parents couldn’t bring themselves to teach her right from wrong, then someone had to. Otherwise, once she entered society, she wouldn’t just fail to support herself, but she’d bring the family trouble.

What I failed to realize was just how important Suri was in our parents’ hearts… and how little authority I had in this house.

My hand hadn’t even landed yet when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure flash at the doorway. It charged straight into my side.

The impact was enormous. I lost my balance, and my head, which was already injured, slammed again into the sharp corner of the table.

"Ah!"

A short scream tore out of me. The second blow made my skull feel like it was splitting open. Nausea surged. I knew these were signs of a mild concussion.

Shaking my head hard, I looked up.

Mom was standing across from me, clutching the sobbing Suri in her arms, comforting her tenderly.

"Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry. I only have one precious baby, and that’s you. I don’t love your sister at all. Stop crying. I will kick her out right away, okay?"

I could still excuse Suri’s childish cruelty as adolescent rebellion, but hearing my own mother say she didn’t love me…

My heart clenched violently. Tears slipped from my eyes before I could stop them.

"Mom, weren’t you going out to buy groceries? Why haven’t you left yet?" I asked, my voice trembling.

She shot me an irritated glance. "You and Suri were fighting. How could I just leave? She’s so small. What if you hurt her?"

An incredulous smile tugged at my lips.

So Mom had been standing by the door the entire time.

She had watched Suri throw water on me and smash a glass into my head. She watched her force my face into broken shards until my entire face was drenched in blood.

And through all of that, she hadn’t stepped in or even told us to stop.

Not until I finally snapped and tried to discipline Suri—before my hand even touched her.

Then she had rushed in like a spinning top and slammed into me, sending my head crashing into the table corner.

Suri was completely unhurt. My face, on the other hand, was covered in bleeding wounds.

Could Mom really not see that?

Maybe she couldn’t because her eyes had never once turned toward me. They were always filled entirely with Suri.

A memory surfaced: ever since Suri was born, Mom had seemed to lose all interest in me.

When I came home during middle school breaks, other kids were picked up by their parents. Mom had to cook for Suri, so I dragged my luggage and backpack alone, walking more than ten kilometers back home.

During the college entrance exams, other parents waited nervously outside the school gates. Mom took six-year-old Suri on vacation instead. For those three days, she left me $20 for food. I survived on dry bread while taking the most important exam of my life.

In college, she said I was an adult now and should be self-reliant. She never paid a single cent for my tuition or living expenses. Every summer, I worked myself to exhaustion just to afford staying in school.

Meanwhile, when Suri was still in elementary school, she received $100 a day in pocket money.

Everything from before now felt like knives stabbing into my heart one after another.

Compared to the pain on my face, my heart was bleeding far more.

I searched desperately for proof that Mom loved me. At least she used to call me to bed at night. She would put food on my plate at the dinner table. And…

My throat closed. In 26 years of my life, after combing through my memories again and again, those were the only two pieces of evidence I could find that Mom loved me.

Across from me, Mom was gently patting Suri’s back, her expression soft and affectionate, her voice warm—an expression I had never once seen directed at me.

My tears finally broke free. For the first time in 26 years, I admitted in my heart that my mother might not love me at all.

She continued lecturing, her voice sharp with irritation, "Elowen Voss, you’re getting more childish as you age. How old is your sister? As the older one, shouldn’t you give in to her? Look how badly you scared Suri!"

I couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in all these years, I shouted back at her.

"Mom! Look at my face! Suri nearly disfigured me. Why won’t you say a word to her?!"

Tears and snot streamed down together. I knew I looked miserable, but I couldn’t stop. I just wanted an explanation from her.

Mom looked me up and down in surprise, as if shocked that I could raise my voice at all.

In the past, I had always been timid at home, terrified of upsetting her, in fear that she would stop loving me, but now I finally understood.

Maybe the love I had begged for had never existed in the first place. How could I lose something I never had?

Her expression returned to that same matter-of-fact indifference. "You were ugly even as a child, so plain no one could pick you out in a crowd. You’re not even a fraction as pretty as Suri. Now that your face is ruined, people might look at you out of pity. You should be thanking Suri."

Hearing those absurd words come from her mouth, I felt like I had fallen into an ice pit. Even the blood still running down my forehead seemed to turn cold.

So in her eyes, her eldest daughter was just an unsightly embarrassment, something that couldn’t compare to Suri in the slightest.

I struggled to my feet and started toward the door. I didn’t want to stay here for even one more second.

I didn’t want to watch Mom and her precious Suri clinging to each other while I stood there like a stranger.

However, before I could reach the door, Mom blocked my path.

Frowning, she rummaged through a box, pulled out gauze and antiseptic, and shoved them into my hands.

"You’re running away from home just because I said a few things? You’re an adult, but you can’t even handle criticism. With all those bloody holes in your face, treat them first. I’m going to buy groceries. When I get back, we’ll eat together. You and Suri stay home and get along."

Without waiting for my response, she turned and walked out.

I clutched the gauze and antiseptic tightly. Suddenly, a fragile hope sparked inside me.

I almost argued with myself. Did this count? Did this count as proof that Mom still loved me? It had to count… Otherwise, why would she stop me from leaving?

I was still trying to convince myself when a cold, sinister voice came from behind me.

"Hey. What do you think Mom will buy: shrimp or ribs?"

I spun around. Suri was standing behind me.

"Don’t bother guessing. Mom will definitely buy shrimp, because shrimp are my favorite," she said with absolute certainty, not a trace of guilt, only a provoking look in her eyes.

I straightened my back, suppressing the panic surging inside me, and shot back stubbornly, "That’s impossible. I just asked Mom to buy ribs for me."