An Ink Blotched Letter

To my dear sister,

My only sister.

I hate this, I hate this so much, sister.

Why am I writing to you again, sister, when I know I won’t even send this letter?

Even though it’s only autumn outside, this room is freezing and dark. And sitting in the darkness all alone, I can’t help but think.

And, when I do, I find my fingers reaching for a pen. Because, what else can I do?

I can’t really tell what I’m writing, since it’s so dark I don’t 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. They’re Viscount Philip Neumann, as well as his wife, Anne. I haven’t responded for days, even months, but they still believe that I’ll answer them when they speak.

It’s true, it wouldn’t be hard to say something. I could even just give them a short reply. I’m 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 can’t answer them. Because I don’t 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 didn’t 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.

I’m the daughter of the Storm family, and your sister. Just why are they still taking care of me like this, even though they aren’t 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 I’ll 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 hasn’t threatened them directly, but the meaning is clear. If I’m given over to them, then he will help the Neumann family. If they don’t, their finances will be destroyed, and the two of them will be thrown out into the streets.

I don’t think there’s 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 he’ll need money to have a doctor look at her.

It’s impossible for them to keep going on like this. They’re not strong people. Some day soon, I’ll 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 I’m still here.

It’s ridiculous. Even though things are so dire, they still want to play family. Even though she’s not my real mother, she’s been call i ng o ut my name for so lo

The ink was smudged.

Since it’s so dark, it’s hard to write properly.

I hope she gives up and leaves soon. Whenever I hear her, my head hurts. I’m tired of thinking about all this, I don’t want to think about anything anymore.

Hey, big sister, tell me, what should I have done?

What would you do in this situation, sister?

I’m 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 time… do you remember, sister?

I’ve been locked up like this before. Unlike my sister, I’m quite the delicate child, I can’t take things as easily as you do. But, that time was especially bad. It was when I realized that the Neumann family weren’t my real parents.

I stayed in my room, just like now, and didn’t let anyone see me. Not the maids or servants who knocked, nor the people who called themselves my parents who called out to me.

I’m sure you don’t remember this at all, do you, sister? Since you don’t 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;

“I don’t know why you’ve locked yourself up. Just what is your problem? If you have something to say, then just say it!”

You really are a simple and straight forward person. That’s how my big sister’s 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, there’s no way I could have been like that. The people who call themselves my parents aren’t my real parents, I know when I’m 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 ‘you’re not my real parents.’?

…No. You wouldn’t say such a thing either, dear sister.

I am sure that my sister would be even more honest and frank than that. You wouldn’t worry about the other person’s feelings.

You wouldn’t 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. I’ve always wanted a big sister like that. Because, I couldn’t do something like that myself.

Dear sister, what should I do?

Am I going to be thrown away again?

Just whose child will I end up being this time?