UPON agreeing to Shizuki’s terms, I committed myself to the role of villainess—a role that necessitated me becoming an adopted daughter of the Sakurazaka family to fulfill, a piece of information Shizuki conveniently divulged only after my agreement.
What? I thought, at a momentary loss before she quickly clarified that a villainess is defined by her status, a status that I currently lacked.
This explanation made sense, and while I was convinced, I wondered how my parents would react. Goodbye Mom and Dad! Thank you for everything, but please give me up for adoption so I can join one of Japan’s most powerful families and become their scapegoat! At least Shizuku will live! That would definitely convince my family… Not.
I would need to come up with a better plan to that. First, I paid a visit to my little sister the very next day.
“What do you mean I’m transferring hospitals?” a very confused Shizuku questioned.
“Like I said, the lady whose handbag I saved belongs to the Sakurazaka Group. When I told her about your situation, she just wanted to help you no matter what.”
I went on to emphasize the superior care and coverage of all medical expenses at the new facility, hoping to paint a positive picture, but none of it could erase that look of doubt on her face. She just stared at me, eyes squinted and brows furrowed, as if trying to read between the lines of my sanitized version of events.
“Mio, I know I humor you a lot, but even I’m not gonna believe that,” she finally confessed.
I took out my phone. “I thought you might not believe me, so I brought proof.” Bringing up my photos, I opened up a shot of me and Shizuki I took earlier.
Shizuku peered at the image. “Wow, she’s really pretty—but there are a lot of pretty girls out there. How can I be sure she is who you say she is?”
I quickly switched to a browser page I had readied, displaying a search for “Shizuki Sakurazaka.” The top result showed the same girl at a high-end function of some kind.
Shizuku studied the new photo for a second before typing away on her laptop. “Show me that last photo again,” she demanded, now sounding more eager.
“This one?” I asked, bringing up the photo of me and Shizuki again.
She squinted at my phone, then down at her laptop, then back to my phone. This went on for about ten cycles before finally she muttered, “Holy cow, that really is her.” She sat back, absorbing the reality of the situation. “So, I’m actually changing hospitals?” she murmured, more to herself than to me.
“Yeah, like I said the first time,” I replied, a little exasperated. Then, smiling warmly at her, I added, “But isn’t that great? It’s like a Christmas miracle. You’re going to get the best care now, Shizuku.”
And with that, the matter of transferring Shizuku to a superior hospital was settled and closed. However, the other, more profound part of the agreement—my departure from our family to join another as the story’s antagonist—I kept close to my chest. My reasoning for this secrecy was simple: I didn’t want Shizuku to misunderstand.
The whole reason I started working my part-time job was to afford Shizuku the privacy of her own hospital room. At only fourteen, the thought of her sharing space with strangers, under the constant bustle of hospital staff, seemed unfair. Our national health insurance covered most of the treatment costs, but expenses for a private room had to be paid out of pocket—a several hundred thousand yen per month privilege. And with the long-term nature of Shizuku’s condition, the cumulative cost had to be envisioned in terms of years, not weeks or months. There was no arguing against cold, hard math, and our parents’ incomes alone were not able to cover these costs.
Shizuku was a clever girl, perhaps too clever for her own good. She likely understood the financial burden early on and never broached the subject of a private room. Convincing her to accept it was a task in itself, one that led me to take up the waitress job. She never once looked happy as I left for work, just guilty, as if I were obligated or forcing myself to do this, when the truth was, I simply wanted to. If this was her reaction to a simple part-time gig, how would she respond to the knowledge of the immense sacrifice I was about to make?
It was then that I decided to keep the full extent of my agreement with Shizuki under wraps. The part about me getting adopted and becoming a villainess, I’d keep a secret for as long as I could. Plus, the promise of a new cure in three years, at least for a little while.
Drawing myself out of my thoughts, I looked at Shizuku again. Her expression as she absorbed the news of her impending hospital transfer was anything but straightforward. There was a flicker of hope at the prospect of enhanced care in the new facility, a dash of disbelief at her sudden stroke of luck—and a sprinkle of suspicion that her sister was making unseen sacrifices for her sake. I wouldn’t put it past her to suspect I was paying some sort of price for this arrangement, but I doubted she could fathom the extent of the deal I had struck—the idea of her sister being adopted and becoming a “villainess” was surely beyond her wildest imaginings.
I averted my eyes. This was how things had to be. What Shizuku didn’t know couldn’t hurt her—or so I reassured myself.
I spoke again, wanting to confirm that she was on board with the plan. “The transfer’s set for next Monday. You’ll get everything ready beforehand…right?” My voice faltered as my attention drifted over to Shizuku again—there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, Mio, thank you so much. I’ll never forget what you did for me—not in this life or the next.”
“Right,” I managed to respond after a beat. “Well, I should get going. Don’t forget to pack.” With that, I turned and left the room, my steps quickening as I moved down the corridor. Once I was certain I was out of Shizuku’s hearing range, my pent-up frustration found release as I slammed my fist against the wall.
In this life or the next… Shizuku’s phrasing echoed hauntingly in my mind. Her acceptance of what she perceived as a limited lifespan was more than I could endure. She didn’t yet know the lengths I was going to in order to save her—that her seemingly resigned acceptance of fate was something I refused to allow.
Shizuku, your older sister isn’t going to let you die. Not while I have anything to say about it.