She flashed a characteristic cynical smile.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Standing across from her was a bastard child, stripped of the light in his eyes, now a cold and monstrous figure.

---

There was a boy in the girl's family, just a year older than her. She was young and didn’t know much, but she knew what to call him.

"Oppa. Lisir oppa. I played with Lisir oppa today."

Her mother, who had her sitting on her lap, was startled and locked eyes with her.

"No, Roera. That child isn’t your oppa."

"Not my oppa? Why? Then… then… is Luaoron oppa not my oppa either?"

Luaoron. At the mention of her beloved son's name, the mother smiled softly and stroked her daughter's hair.

"Lisir is different from Luaoron oppa. He’s… different from us."

"Different? Why? Isn’t Lisir… oppa part of our family too?"

"Lisir is…"

The mother’s voice trailed off, and she lowered her head. A heavy, silent monologue poured from her lips.

Him? Part of this family? He’s the child of another woman, and worse—

It was something she didn’t want to show her beloved daughter.

"Mom? Are you crying? Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again."

At her daughter’s quivering voice, the mother quickly lifted her head, pretending to joke.

"Roar!"

Though her insides were still churning, she showed only the expression she wanted to display for her giggling daughter.

"Lisir is—"

A bastard.

It was a word too difficult for a young girl to understand—both its literal meaning and the weight it carried.

"Lisir is… he’s actually a much worse child than you think, Roera."

"Lisir oppa is bad? No way! He’s so nice to me! Look, he even made this for me."

The girl smiled sheepishly and pulled out a small ring made of intertwined grass. It was clumsy, clearly crafted by a child, but she wore it on her finger with pure joy.

"Isn’t it pretty?"

"..."

The mother’s precarious smile softened as she gently stroked her daughter’s hand, which wore the ring.

"Yes. It’s very pretty. Our Roera. Mommy almost wants to wear it herself."

The girl looked guilty, as if she had made a grave mistake, and quickly hid her hand.

"Oh, Mom… you can’t… um… Lisir oppa gave it to me… so…"

At last, a smile without worry spread across the mother’s face.

Her daughter was endlessly precious to her. The mother stroked her hair and, as if something had come to mind, removed a necklace from around her own neck and placed it around Roera’s.

"Wow… it sparkles…"

Even through the eyes of a child, the necklace was far more extravagant than the simple ring. In fact, it sparkled even more brightly in her eyes because she was a child.

"How about this? Mommy cherishes this necklace very much, but let’s trade it for that ring."

"...Okay!"

The mother grasped the grass ring in her hand, gripping it so tightly it almost crumbled.

"Roera, can we make a promise? From now on, don’t play with Lisir anymore."

"Why?"

"Just because… I’d prefer it that way. It’s Mommy’s request, okay?"

"..."

The girl glanced at her hand. Only the faint scent of grass remained.

"Okay… I’ll do it because it’s your request, Mom."

---

"Miss Roera!!!"

"For heaven’s sake—where have you gone? It’s time for your etiquette lesson…!"

"No, she’s disappeared *because* it’s time for her lesson. So we have to go find her."

"...!"

---

What is a rascal? The name Roera Vendel was synonymous with it.

Even those unfamiliar with the exact definition of "rascal" would think of the word upon seeing eleven-year-old Roera.

All the etiquette that a noble young lady was supposed to master—Roera detested it.

That could be understandable up to a point. After all, the Vendel family valued martial prowess above all.

As long as you wielded a sword well, a lack of ladylike manners wasn’t much of a problem.

The issue, however, was that Roera loathed even the most basic courtesies that any noble should know.

"Hey, Lisir~"

Today, as always, Roera had quietly slipped away during her etiquette class and came here.

Lisir’s room was located in the Vendel mansion. He was sitting at his desk, deeply engrossed in his studies.

Her mother had repeatedly warned Roera to keep her distance from Lisir, but she didn’t care. Lisir was her best friend.

His desk was piled high with books—books that Roera had tossed aside after ditching her etiquette lessons.

"Yuck~"

Roera pretended to gag as she looked at the mountain of books. Truly, she was the epitome of a nightmare for etiquette teachers.

"Lisir~ you can finish that later. Come play with me!"

Roera waved a stick she had picked up.

"Get back, villains! Whack! Whack! Ouch!"

The "evil" etiquette books tumbled to the floor.

Lisir sighed and began gathering the scattered books again, carefully dusting them off, straightening crumpled pages, and placing them neatly back on the desk.

"I’m busy."

"I’m busy too, but I made time to come here~ So you should make time too, Lisir~"

"Call me oppa."

"No way! Hehe. The grown-ups say you’re a bastard. I don’t know what that means, but because of that, they say I’m stronger than you, Lisir. So I guess that makes me the older sibling. Ahem!"

"..."

Silence.

The sound of a pencil scratching on paper.

Lisir made every effort to ignore his younger sister.

"Tch."

Roera pouted and flopped onto the bed in the corner of the room. She rolled around, swinging her stick in the air.

The bed was far too small a world to contain Miss Roera Vendel.

She quickly grew bored, rolled off the bed, and began creeping toward Lisir’s back.

"Gotcha!"

Roera swung her stick once more, knocking the books off the desk again.

Giggling mischievously, she waited eagerly for Lisir’s reaction.

Suddenly, she was pushed roughly backward.

Lisir had leapt up and shoved her.

"Oh, so you’re fighting back now!?"

Roera’s eyes lit up with excitement as she prepared to retaliate.

"Go away."

Lisir glared at her. His eyes were serious, with not a hint of playfulness.

"..."

Roera, sensing the shift in his mood, hid her stick behind her back.

She cautiously approached him, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"What… what’s wrong? It was just a joke! Don’t be mad. Did something bad happen?"

"Aren’t you supposed to be in your etiquette class right now?"

"I skipped it to play with you~ I outwitted three adults to get away. Hehe. You should’ve seen how sneaky I was, Lisir!"

Roera proudly boasted of her escape, but Lisir’s eyes remained cold.

"Roera."

"Hm? Want to hear more? Want to hear?"

"What’s so fun about all this?"

"What?"

"The etiquette instructors Father brought in for you. And you’re so thrilled about ditching them. You’re disgracing Father."

"Why are you saying such complicated things all of a sudden~ Father wouldn’t get mad over something like this."

Wham!

It happened so fast.

Lisir shoved Roera with all his might. It was more like a punch than a push.

"Ow!"

Clutching her bruised arm, Roera glanced nervously at Lisir. At this point, even a mischievous rascal like her could tell that this wasn’t a joke anymore.

"W-What’s going on? Why did you hit me…"

Even though Roera was on the verge of tears, Lisir didn’t flinch.

Why is he so mad?

She had a vague idea.

"I-I’m sorry, Lisir oppa… I didn’t mean to be disrespectful… I’ll stop. So please calm down…"

Lisir continued to glare at her.

He wanted to be as intimidating as possible. He wanted to make sure she never acted up again. He intended to reinforce the hierarchy between them—who was above and who was below.

But tears spread quickly among children.

Sniffle. Sniffle.

Lisir began to sob alongside her.

"Why… why do they love you more?"

"Oppa…?"

"I follow the rules better, I study harder, I’m better at everything. If Father taught me swordsmanship, I’d be better at it too. So why do they love someone like you more!?"

"Oppa…"

"Go away!!!"

Lisir pushed his sister as she tried to approach him.

"Who… who wants to be born a bastard!?"

"I-I’m sorry… I didn’t know being called a bastard was such a bad thing… I won’t tease you again…"

"What are you sorry for!? What do you know!? Get out! Get out!!! I don’t want to see you!!!"

Lisir grabbed whatever he could and threw it at her.

"Ow!"

Unfortunately, the corner of a book struck Roera squarely on the forehead.

A bright red line appeared on the smooth

 skin of the rascal young lady’s forehead.

Drip. Drip. Blood trickled down her face.

"...!"

Lisir’s face turned white as a sheet.

"Are… are you okay, Roera?"

"Waaaah!!! I hate you, oppa!!!"

Crying, Roera ran out of the room.

---

"We found her, miss!"

"Found her? Look at her face!"

"What on earth happened here!?"

The servants discovered Roera, bleeding from her forehead and crying, and the entire mansion was thrown into chaos.

---

A short while later, Lisir was summoned to his father’s office for the first time in a long while.

His mother, holding the bandaged Roera in her arms, was crying.

And before her, the head of the Vendel family, Lisir’s father, delivered his verdict.

"From today on, you will live in the annex, Lisir."

"...Yes, Father."

The bastard was sent to live in the annex, where the household servants resided.

One day, Roera came to Lisir’s room with a letter in her hand.

"Oppa… I’m sorry… Are you okay…?"

"..."

"Here…"

Lisir took the letter Roera cautiously handed him and tore it in half without a second thought.

"Didn’t you hear what Father said? You’re not allowed to play with a bastard like me anymore."

"..."

Crying, Roera left the room.

From that day on, the bastard and the young lady no longer played together.

---

The once mischievous girl had grown into a young lady.

Her hair, roughly tied back, and her cynical smirk suited her perfectly.

Lady Roera Vendel.

She stood at a slight distance, arms crossed, glaring at Lisir as he swung his sword.

Lisir’s entire body was soaked with sweat. His hands, blistered from gripping the sword, were covered in a mix of blood and pus.

One hundred ninety-four.

One hundred ninety-five.

With each swing of the sword, his cracked, dry voice accompanied it.

---

It had been about a month since Lisir had begun training in the courtyard of the annex behind the Vendel mansion.

He started training at the same time as those in the main courtyard but ended much later than them.

It was overwork—plain and simple.

But even so, Lisir wasn’t satisfied.

Every day, he extended his training hours, increasing both the time and intensity.

Today was no different.

Anyone who visited the annex courtyard would see that Lisir had practically taken root there.

He spent all his waking hours training, leaving only the bare minimum time for sleep and rest.

“At the end of the day, even if he’s a bastard, he’s still a Vendel, huh?”

At first, the other Vendel trainees had mocked Lisir, but eventually, they were left speechless at his dedication.

"Huff…"

Two hundred.

Lisir finally paused his training, catching his breath.

"Hm?"

He belatedly noticed Roera and approached her.

"Roera. What brings you here?"

His breath carried the scent of blood, and there wasn’t a dry patch left on his sweat-soaked body. Yet, his blue eyes remained sharp, focused straight ahead.

Hah.

That was Roera’s reaction.

She let out a dry chuckle as she watched him.

"I can’t stand to watch this anymore."

"..."

Her blatant mockery made Lisir flinch, but he kept his composure.

"What do you want, Roera? Do you have something to tell me?"

"..."

Roera simply stared at him in silence.

For a moment, a heavy stillness hung between them.

Lisir’s eyes twitched slightly, and just as he was about to speak, Roera broke the silence.

"Are you seriously going to keep training like this? Are you out of your mind?"

Lisir’s lips quivered ever so slightly.

Roera didn’t miss it.

"So… does hearing this make you feel a little more satisfied?"

"...What?"

"This ridiculous performance. How long are you going to keep it up?"

"Roera. Calm down. I don’t know what you’re—"

Hah.

Roera let out a deep sigh.

"Are you an idiot? No, that’s not right. You are an idiot. You think you’re clever, but the truth is you’re an idiot. Do you really think this will make him care about you?"

"...!"

Lisir’s expression froze.

It was as if she had struck a nerve.

"I know exactly why you’re doing this. Training? Cut the crap. The trainees told me you’ve been swinging your sword all day, like you’re in a trance. But when I look at you, there’s no trance at all. You’re full of distractions. Be glad he’s ignoring you. Actually, he probably already took one look at your pitiful state and decided to completely disregard you."

"Roera, that’s enough—"

"Why don’t you just swing your sword at me instead? The moment I got here, your ears perked up. All your attention was on me. You think I didn’t notice?"

"..."

"It’s like you’re screaming, ‘Look at me, Father! I’m such a great son! Please notice me!’ It’s so loud it’s giving me a headache."

Roera was right.

Lisir knew that his training method wasn’t efficient.

The main, no, the only purpose of his relentless training was to get attention.

At some point, his desperate attempts to gain his father’s recognition had taken this misguided form.

"What… what do you know!?"

Lisir’s face flushed red as he shouted.

"I don’t want to know."

Roera’s once elevated tone suddenly cooled down, becoming sharp and controlled.

"I don’t want to care about someone like you."

"Then don’t care!!! Who do you think you are—what makes you so great!?"

"What?"

"If you were in my position, would things be any different!?"

"..."

Roera’s face stiffened.

Sensing his opportunity, Lisir pressed on, gaining momentum.

"If I weren’t a bastard—if Father had just acknowledged me—I’d be so much better than you! Do you think things would be the same if you were the bastard!? Have you ever thought about what it’s like to not be recognized by Father!?"

"Is that really so important to you?"

"What?"

Roera smiled again, but this time, it was tinged with bitterness rather than sarcasm.

"You really want his recognition that badly?"

"...What?"

"You want the approval of someone who doesn’t even see you as his son?"

"You—you—"

"Isn’t it ridiculous? He’s the one who screwed around. He’s the one who got someone else pregnant. He’s the one who let your mother die. And yet he plugs his ears, closes his eyes, and blames the child?"

"How dare you—talk about Father like that—!"

"Oh, look at the dutiful son. Why don’t you just switch places with me? You can be the legitimate child, and I’ll take your place as the bastard."

Roera glanced away, clearly done with the conversation.

Lisir did the same.

"..."

Then, for a brief moment, Roera’s gaze lingered on Lisir’s hands—hands blistered and calloused from countless hours of sword practice.

"Hey, Lisir. Stop wasting your time and just beg me."

"What—"

"You could do this for a hundred, a thousand days. It won’t make a difference. He’ll never care. You’re not even doing this to improve your swordsmanship. Isn’t that right? So why not take a more certain path?"

Though she was now fully grown, Roera was still shorter than Lisir.

Yet despite her smaller stature, she managed to exude an imposing presence, meeting Lisir’s eyes with an air of dignity.

Roera stepped up to Lisir, tilted her chin up, and smirked.

"You’re good at begging, aren’t you? Do it. Just like you did with him. Who knows? Maybe your sweet, kind sister, who isn’t as stingy as Father, might just teach you a thing or two. It may not be the prestigious Vendel swordsmanship you’ve been dreaming of, though."

For some reason, Roera had chosen not to inherit the Vendel swordsmanship. She had rejected the family’s support entirely and forged her own path.

To Lisir, who was consumed by a sense of inferiority, it seemed like a luxury only available to someone who wasn’t a bastard.

"...Go away."

Lisir averted his eyes from his sister, who was now looking down at him.

"My break time is over."

"Oh, is it now."

Roera shrugged her shoulders and turned away without hesitation.

"...Damn it."

Lisir didn’t hear the self-reproach in Roera’s muttered words.

---

From the next day onward, Lisir stopped appearing in the courtyard for training.

---

Everything was too noisy.

What should a noble young lady act like?

What should the daughter of the Vendel family be?

What should my sister be like?

What should my daughter be like?

But I’m just me.

There was only one person…

Only one person who saw me for who I really am.

“…”

I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

Back when I was his closest friend…

Back when he was my closest friend.

I tried my best.

No…

I did everything I could.

Maybe if I did enough, he would say thank you.

Maybe we could go back to how we were.

That’s why I married Dintal in his place.

I hoped he would find his own life.

I hoped he would realize that he was more than just a bastard abandoned by his father.

But all

 I got in return was the news that he had enlisted in the military to uphold the family’s honor.

Then the news that he had gone missing in action.

And then—

“You fool…”

Ironically, it was only in death that the warmth returned to his body as I gently lowered him to the ground.

How did it come to this?

“…”

I already knew.

I’m the fool.

There could have been a much better way.

There could have been an easier path.

But I didn’t take it.

I wanted to believe that someday, things would resolve themselves.

I turned my head away, shut my eyes, and took the long way around.

This is the result.

This is entirely the consequence of my own choices—

“…”

The woman’s lips parted.

But in the end, they remained closed.

It was too late for any words to have meaning now.

“Roera, my sister.”

Suddenly, the woman heard a voice she longed for.

She immediately knew.

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t his voice.

But still, she made an uncharacteristic mistake.

She listened to that icy voice.

The light faded from her eyes.

---

"Lord Lisir."

As I returned to the annex after parting ways with my master, I was greeted by a familiar voice.

"Oh, Lady Maya~"

Roera’s maid, Maya, with her sleek bob-cut hair, was standing there, looking as composed as ever.

"Why are you here so late?"

"Why am I here so late?"

I waved at her cheerfully, and she stared at me in shock, her eyes widening.

She couldn’t believe it!

That’s what her expression said.

"This morning, I’m quite sure I informed you, didn’t I?"

"This morning?"

"Yes. Lady Roera requested to meet with you. I specifically asked you to visit her in the front garden of the main house at noon. Was I wrong?"

"Oh. Yes, you did say that."

"So why—"

Maya looked up at the sky. It was well past noon, and the sun had already begun to set.

Maya said nothing more. It was like one of those moments in rap battles where the rapper drops the mic.

She had just dropped the mic.

"Surely, you didn’t wait all this time?"

"And if I did?"

"Oh no… Didn’t I tell you? I had other matters to attend to, so I might not be able to make it. I told you not to wait."

"...Did your business go well?"

"Of course."

Because that "business" was avoiding Roera.

"You mean business that took priority over meeting Lady Roera?"

Oh boy, she was really angry now. Her eyes were widening even more.

It seemed like now was the time to lower my tail. After all, Lady Maya was a high-born noble with a much higher social standing than some bastard like me, and she was set to rise even higher in central noble society. It wouldn’t do to get on her bad side.

But how should I back down?

"…Huff, huff, huff!"

Suddenly, I was gasping for breath.

Why?

Oh right, that’s it. The bastard was rushing here to keep a promise to his beloved little sister and a respected maid, running until his heart nearly burst.

"S-Sorry for being late…! My business took longer than expected—Is Roera still waiting? Let’s go right away!"

"Oh."

Maya closed her eyes, seemingly touched by my sincerity.

"Follow me."

The place Maya led me to was the garden in front of the main mansion. There, seated at a tea table with her long legs propped up and a book in hand, was a woman.

Her long blonde hair, tied back carelessly yet still exuding elegance—

It was my sister, Roera.

I immediately sat down across from her.

"Hey."

My sister greeted me warmly.

"What’s up?"

"What do you mean, what’s up?"

"...Forget it. I don’t want to waste any more time because of you, so let’s get straight to the point. Say no."

"No."

"Aaaargh! Not to me!!!"

Roera practically exploded, making a sound like a car engine revving up.

Roera’s story was simple.

Apparently, some marriage proposal involving me and some noblewoman was in the works, and she wanted me to reject it outright.

"What."

A marriage proposal? Out of the blue?

Could this be about the military?

Was this some veiled way of implying they were going to force me to enlist?

If that’s the case, I’ll do more than just say no. I’ll shit myself and roll around in it if I have to.

And if they still send me to the army? Fine, I’ll accept it.

I’ll add "deserter" to the Vendel family lineage out of spite.

"I’m telling you, if this proposal goes through, I won’t stand for it."

"...Roera, you really are the only one who cares about me."

"What the hell are you talking about all of a sudden?"

If someone saw Roera’s face right now, they’d probably think our sibling relationship was strange.

It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by me—it was more like she was genuinely disgusted.

In a way, you could say this was the truest form of sibling love.

After all, siblings are biologically programmed to find each other repulsive.

It’s one of God’s great lessons learned from Adam and Eve.

"Oh. So it’s not about enlistment?"

"...What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"

"My mistake. That’s a relief. But a marriage proposal? What’s going on?"

"Argh!"

Seeing my sister on the verge of foaming at the mouth, I wondered what the appropriate response would be.

Film her with my smartphone? Get some popcorn? Today, more than ever, I longed for modern technology.

"Politics!"

"Politics?"

"Two neighboring families, always on the brink of conflict every time they see each other, are now trying to settle their disputes by marrying into each other’s families instead. You’re going to be married off as their son-in-law."

"I haven’t heard a word about this."

"That’s because *he* doesn’t care about your opinion."

Was it just my imagination?

Roera seemed a little upset when she said that.

"So, does it even matter if I refuse? And since when do you care about my affairs? What’s gotten into you?"

"None of your business."

"Could it be… you don’t want to lose your big brother to another woman?"

I had only said that to get a rise out of her, expecting her usual sharp retort.

"...Whatever."

But Roera fled the scene instead.

"? What was that reaction?"