I tried my best to unravel the puzzles and riddles in Tifani and Reika's letters to each other. I stayed awake at night, sneaking into Tifani's room as she slept, mesmerized by their made-up language that only they could understand. Eventually, I managed to decipher some words.

Tifani was explaining what Mom and Dad were saying in the media about her and Reika. Reika was absolutely livid at our parents. I pieced together a phrase from her letter:

"Play the character, Tifi. Get sympathy for me. In time, our plan will work—that is, if they don't see behind your mask."

Followed by an unsent response from Tifani:

"Don't worry, Rei. You know they'll never see that I'm like you beneath my facade of innocence. The plan is flawless, just like we rehearsed. They’re too caught up in their own lies to notice the truth slipping through the cracks."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: Reika and Tifani were orchestrating something far bigger than I could comprehend—a plan that went beyond mere sibling rivalry or family reputation. They were weaving a web of deceit, using our parents’ own tactics against them, playing the perfect daughters while plotting something sinister beneath the surface.

In the days that followed, I became more cautious, watching Tifani closely and studying her every move. She played her part so well—too well. Every smile, every gesture seemed perfectly calculated, a performance designed to distract and disarm. But now, I could see the cracks in her mask, the subtle moments when her true self flickered through. It was terrifying how much she was like Reika, and yet no one but me seemed to notice.

The weight of the secrets I carried grew heavier each day. I couldn’t tell my parents—they wouldn’t believe me. They were too entrenched in their own narrative, too blind to see the truth about their daughters. And confronting Tifani directly was out of the question; she would only twist my words, turning them against me as she always had.

So, I did the only thing I could think of: I kept watching, waiting for the moment their plan would finally reveal itself. Every night, I lay awake, piecing together the fragments of their letters, trying to decipher their next move. The more I uncovered, the deeper their conspiracy ran. It wasn’t just about Reika’s return—it was about control, power, and reclaiming the narrative our parents had stolen from them.

But in their quest for control, they had underestimated one thing: me. I wasn’t the invisible sister they thought I was, nor was I content to sit on the sidelines while they manipulated our family like puppets. I had my own part to play in this twisted game, and though I didn’t yet know how, I was determined to outsmart them.

The Kumo family secrets weren’t just their burden to bear—they were mine, too. And if Reika and Tifani thought they could pull the strings without consequence, they were in for a rude awakening. Secrets, after all, never stay buried for long. When they finally surface, they have a way of changing everything.

For now, I waited, biding my time. But soon, the moment would come when all the masks would fall, and the truth would be laid bare for everyone to see. Until then, I remained the quiet observer, watching as the delicate balance of our family teetered on the edge of collapse, knowing that when the dust finally settled, nothing would ever be the same.

Then, on a fateful day, Mom received a strange call from Aunt Areti. I could hear her speaking Greek on the phone:

"Γεια, τι είναι το 'Ρέτι; Τι εννοείς ότι η Ρέικα μόλις μίλησε στα ελληνικά μέσα; Λοιπόν, γιατί δεν την εμπόδισες?!"

Mom seemed frantic. Her voice trembled with disbelief as she gripped the phone tightly, pacing back and forth in the living room. I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart pounding in my chest. Aunt Areti never called unless something serious was happening. The fact that Reika had spoken to the Greek media—without our parents' knowledge or consent—was a red flag. Something big was about to unfold.

"Μα... είσαι σίγουρη; Δεν μπορεί να είναι αλήθεια..." Mom's voice faltered as Aunt Areti spoke on the other end, her words coming through faintly in Greek. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as I pieced together the conversation.

Reika had gone rogue. Whatever plan she and Tifani had been plotting, it had reached a critical stage, and now, things were spiraling out of control. If Reika was speaking publicly, especially to the press, it could mean only one thing: she was making her move, a move that would throw our entire family into chaos.

Mom hung up the phone, her face pale and her hands shaking. "I have to talk to your father," she muttered under her breath before rushing out of the room. I stayed behind, my mind racing with possibilities. Why would Reika go public now? What was she trying to achieve?

And more importantly—what did Tifani know about this? The letters, the secret conversations—it all pointed to a larger scheme. But had Reika acted alone, or was Tifani in on it too? The thought made my stomach churn. If they were both involved, this was far bigger than I’d imagined.

I hurried back to my room, my hands shaking as I pulled out the stack of letters hidden beneath my mattress. Frantically, I reread the most recent ones, searching for any clue that might hint at Reika’s next move. One line from her last letter to Tifani stood out:

"The time has come. Soon, they’ll see the truth, and they’ll regret underestimating us."

Had Tifani known Reika was going to speak to the media? Was this part of their grand plan all along, or had Reika gone rogue?

Hours passed, and the house felt eerily quiet, the tension thick in the air. When my parents finally emerged from their closed-door conversation, their faces were drawn, their expressions grim. They hadn’t seen this coming. They were always so good at controlling the narrative, spinning every situation in their favor. But now, with Reika’s public appearance, they were losing control, and that terrified them.

At dinner, the silence was unbearable. Tifani sat across from me, her face a perfect mask of innocence as always. But I knew better. Her calmness, her composed smile—it was all part of the act. Yet I caught a flicker of something in her eyes.

Contentment. Pure, plain contentment. This was planned.

"Mother, Father, may I take Yuki to the public appearance with me?"

She wanted to take me with her. Why the hell was she bringing me into this? I had never been the face of anything in the family. Tifani had always taken the spotlight, mastering the art of deception while I remained the quiet observer in the shadows. But now, she wanted to drag me into the chaos, to involve me in whatever web she and Reika were spinning.

My parents exchanged a glance, their faces tight with stress. Mom finally spoke, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "If you think it’s necessary, Tifani. But remember, this is about setting the record straight, not adding more drama."

"Of course, Mother," Tifani replied, her voice syrupy sweet. "Yuki and I will present a united front. It will show the world that our family is strong, unbreakable."

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. A united front? Tifani wanted to use me as part of her carefully crafted narrative, and I had no idea what she had planned for the appearance. But one thing was certain—if I didn’t go, it would raise suspicion. And the last thing I needed was for Tifani to focus her manipulative efforts on me.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced with the possibilities of what the next day would bring. Would Reika’s media appearance be addressed? Would Tifani publicly denounce her own sister? Or was this part of some larger plan to twist the narrative in their favor?

The following morning, I dressed in the clothes Tifani had laid out for me—a demure but elegant outfit that screamed innocence and family loyalty. As we left for the public appearance, Tifani was her usual composed self, but I could sense the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. She thrived on moments like this, where she could control the narrative and bend it to her will.

When we arrived at the press conference, the room was already buzzing with reporters and flashing cameras. My heart pounded as we stepped onto the stage, Tifani leading the way with her perfect smile. She was in her element, ready to play her role.

The questions started immediately, rapid-fire from all sides. Most of them were about Reika—what she had said to the Greek media, why she had gone rogue, and how the family was responding. Tifani handled each question with ease, her voice calm and controlled as she painted a picture of a family united in the face of adversity.

"Reika has been struggling," Tifani said, her tone filled with feigned concern. "She’s been under a lot of pressure, and unfortunately, she acted out in a way that we weren’t prepared for. But as a family, we love and support her, and we’re working together to help her through this difficult time."

I stood beside her, feeling like a prop in her performance. But something shifted in me as I watched the reporters scribble down her words, as they ate up her lies. They believed her. They believed every word she said, just as they always had.

And then, one reporter directed a question at me. "Yuki, how do you feel about your sister’s public statements? Do you support Tifani’s version of events?"

For a brief moment, panic flared in my chest. But then, something inside me clicked. I realized that this was my moment, my chance to shift the balance of power, if only a little. I glanced at Tifani, who looked at me expectantly, clearly confident that I would fall in line with her narrative.

"I love my sister," I began, my voice steady but quiet. "Both of them. But I think there’s more to this story than anyone realizes. Sometimes, the truth isn’t as simple as it seems."

A murmur ran through the crowd, and I could feel Tifani’s sharp gaze on me. She hadn’t expected that. She had underestimated me, just as she and Reika had underestimated so much.

As the press conference continued, I remained silent, watching as Tifani tried to regain control of the narrative. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and I knew that from now on, things would be different. Tifani wasn’t invincible, and neither was Reika.

When we finally left the stage, Tifani’s perfect composure slipped for just a moment. She turned to me, her eyes flashing with something cold and dangerous. "What was that, Yukina?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp. "You were supposed to follow the script."

I met her gaze, feeling a surge of courage I hadn’t known I possessed. "Maybe I’m tired of your script, Tifani. Maybe it’s time for a new one."

Her lips curled into a tight smile, but her eyes were dark with anger. "Careful, Yukina," she whispered. "You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into."

As we drove home in silence, I knew that the delicate balance of power in our family had shifted. Tifani and Reika’s game was still in motion, but now, I was no longer just a passive observer. I was part of it, and I wasn’t going to let them manipulate me any longer.

The real battle was just beginning, and this time, I wasn’t going to play by their rules.