I don’t remember exactly how I escaped Fabrício, but by the time I regained awareness, I was already near home.

On the way, I stopped at a convenience store to buy fresh ingredients for Alice’s dinner.

As I reached into my pocket, I realized I had more money than I remembered.

That’s when Fabrício’s words came rushing back.

It seemed it had all really happened.

I had brutalized his lackeys on the school rooftop.

And not just that—apparently, I’d stolen all their money too.

But only fragmented flashes surfaced in my mind, like remnants of a dissolving dream.

Why couldn’t I remember clearly?

Or rather… how the hell had I even done any of that?

So many questions…

Yet something inside me—an unsettling intuition—insisted everything would make sense soon.

So I set it aside for now.

Back home, I showered, changed, and headed to the kitchen.

Years of living alone had taught me a few things.

Cooking was one of them.

It wasn’t long before Alice arrived.

— "I’M HOOOME!"

She tossed her bag onto the couch and bounded toward me, radiant.

I smiled at the sight of her.

— "Hey."

— "Took a while ‘cause I stopped by our place to grab some clothes."

She hugged me tightly.

— "Our parents grilled me with questions, but since Paloma was with me, we threw them off easy."

— "If they knew you always come here when you say you’re at Paloma’s, they’d kill me."

— "They’d drop dead first!"

We laughed at the absurdity.

— "...You okay?"

— "Mhmm!"

She beamed.

— "Dinner’s almost ready."

— "It smells amazing!"

She grabbed a spoon, lifted the pot lid, rested it on the counter, and tasted the sauce.

— "Aaah…"

Her mouth fell open as she frantically waved a hand in front of her face—clearly scalding her tongue.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

— "Hey…"

She pouted.

— "Don’t laugh…"

— "I’m not laughing."

— "Hmph…"

She nuzzled her head against my chest like a helpless little animal.

For a moment, she stayed perfectly still.

Then, slowly, she lifted her face until our eyes met.

— "..."

— "..."

We were so close I could hear her soft breaths.

She bit her lower lip, as if steeling herself for something.

— "..."

— "..."

The pot lid slipped and clattered to the floor with a metallic crash.

— "SHIT—"

I startled, glancing down.

Alice looked at me—then burst out laughing.

— "Now you don’t get to laugh."

She covered her mouth with her hands.

— "I’m not laughing."

I shot her a skeptical look, which only made her laugh harder.

— "I-I should go shower."

She mumbled, pointing toward the bathroom.

— "Probably for the best…"

She grabbed her bag and vanished into the bedroom.

The shower took nearly an hour.

When she returned, my breath caught at her meticulously crafted beauty.

She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a fairy tale—a princess in modern guise.

Her hair was artfully braided with delicate ribbons and chains in sky-blue hues, mirroring the cerulean of her eyes.

And in her usual contrast, she wore nothing but one of my shirts as pajamas.

Now I understood the delay.

Even having seen her like this before, each time felt like she’d grown more breathtaking… harder to ignore.

"Shit… shit… She’s my sister. What the hell am I thinking?"

The thoughts cut through me like knives.

— "How do I look?"

She twirled, and the shirt rode up, revealing more of her thighs.

— "Pretty fancy… for someone just eating dinner and going to bed."

She puffed her cheeks in mock outrage.

— "I deserved a better compliment. I got all dolled up just for you."

I smiled.

— "Hmph!"

She huffed, turning away with a mix of anger and charm.

— "I wouldn’t know how to compliment you… You don’t wear beauty—beauty wears you."

Her eyes widened before a furious blush consumed her face.

— "T-thank you."

Her voice was a whisper as her left hand pressed against her chest, as if to steady her racing heart.

— "L-let’s see if your cooking’s as good as I remember."

— "Help yourself."

— "Oh no! I want you to serve me. Pleaaase…"

— "Fine, fine… Let me just…"

I served her.

A simple gesture, but her reaction—so sweet, so adorable—made me wish I’d done it before she even asked.

I sat and served myself next.

— "So, how was Germany?"

We ate as she recounted her trip.

***

— "These trips keep getting more exhausting…"

— "I can’t even imagine… Our parents—hell, everyone—just wants you to fulfill their dreams. They demand so much, but no one cares what you actually want, do they?"

She stared at me, startled, as if I’d struck a nerve.

While I’d failed to meet our parents’ expectations, Alice exceeded them—always surpassing what they dared hope for.

Yet the very gift that elevated her above everyone else had become the chains binding her.

— "What do you want, Alice?"

— "?"

— "Something you’ve wanted desperately but never dared to do… for fear of disappointing our parents."

She laughed.

— "...The shame I’d bring them might be literally lethal—not just metaphorically."

— "It’s not always about them. You need to think about yourself too. This is your life, after all."

She twirled her spoon absently, studying her reflection in the metal as if seeking courage there.

— "That’s not within my reach. Life isn’t always fair… and we can’t always have what we want most."

There was something dark in her tone.

Her voice, her expression… everything felt heavier, more serious.

— "Is wanting something really so terrible?"

— "...It’s disgusting!"

— "?"

She exhaled sharply.

— "But maybe… just maybe."

She hesitated.

— "...Tell me."

Then, slowly, she lifted her eyes to mine.

This time, she looked at me in a way she never had before.

— "?"

And then, in a whisper so quiet it barely existed, she said:

— "I wish you weren’t my brother."