1.
Ain died.
He died with a knife engraved with a magnolia stabbed into his chest, riddled with holes.
He died with his head slumped over a shabby table without even a tablecloth.
The bloodstains, dried and beginning to turn crimson, decorated the center of what was now an abandoned house.
I thought it was just another one of Giselle's delusions.
Until I opened the creaking door.
I never imagined Ain would be dead.
It's just that the red stains all over that woman Giselle's clothes bothered me.
I couldn't just dismiss it as nonsense and laugh it off.
So I came to check.
Because I was worried about how he was doing.
Ah, I had prepared a letter too.
Saying I was sorry for not showing my face because I'd been so busy.
That the family had recognized my achievements, and now I had enough standing, if not quite as much as Father.
That I was one step away from bringing you back into my—into our family's embrace.
The letter slipped from my hand and fell at Ain's feet.
What went wrong, and where?
I had no choice.
In place of my lazy, arrogant father.
I single-handedly took on the duties of a family influential enough to easily become a pillar of the nation.
I tried over and over to persuade Father, who boasted he'd kill you without anyone knowing if I went to see you after your banishment.
That's why I didn't have time to visit Ain.
But I kept sending letters asking how you were.
I don't see any of the letters I wrote anywhere in Ain's room.
No sign that he prepared any replies.
No pen, no paper, no proper space to write.
How was anyone supposed to live in a place like this?
If I'd known you were living in a garbage dump, I would have pulled you out no matter what.
Right?
You were the eldest son of the family, once upon a time.
Even if we had to drive you out because of disgraceful rumors, I thought they'd at least treat you like a human being.
They didn't.
Mother and Father just found Ain repulsive for no reason.
They hated Ain so terribly they wanted to deny his very existence.
I lifted my younger brother's head from where it had collapsed on the table.
That beautiful face, those lovely black locks.
I caressed the back of his hand, beginning to take on a purple hue.
Cold and stiff.
What was Ain's body temperature like?
The memory of holding Ain's hand and walking together when we were young no longer comes to mind.
I only vaguely remember that such a memory once existed.
"I need to... hold a funeral too..."
My words, with no one to hear them, echoed through the empty house.
What meaning does a funeral even have?
It's nothing but a grotesque festival created for the living to console themselves.
Will there even be any mourners?
Father and Mother certainly won't come.
I grasped the handle of the knife still embedded in Ain's chest.
Trying to remove the foreign object that wouldn't leave my brother's body.
Wanting to remember his final appearance as at least slightly less hideous.
But no strength enters my hand.
It shouldn't even take much effort.
What's collapsed before my eyes isn't even Ain anymore.
Regret comes too late.
I can never turn back time.
If only I'd come just a little earlier, Ain might not have died.
No.
Maybe I was actually happy.
Maybe I secretly rejoiced that Ain was no longer family.
If we weren't family, if Ain and I were no longer connected by blood.
Maybe there was a possibility that you, after Giselle left, might accept these feelings I'd set aside since childhood.
Foolish and vile.
Disgusting and twisted.
Instead of the knife handle, I stroked Ain's hair.
I tilted Ain's head back slightly so I could see his face better.
I collapsed on the table in the same position as Ain, matching my eyes with those empty pupils, hollow as this house.
"Now... we don't look much alike anymore."
The yellow eyes, only half-open, shone emptily, having lost their color.
The dust accumulated on the interior and on Ain's body peeled away in response to my breath.
I looked at my own face reflected in Ain's eyes.
I waved away with my hand the fly trying to land on the motionless hair.
"I'm sorry... Ain..."
If there's a next time, I'll do better.
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2.
"Are you satisfied?"
I asked, bowing the head of the rag who clung to Ain before his gravestone.
Because of this stupid bitch.
Because of just this one thing.
You're not even that beautiful.
Unlike me, your looks are on the ordinary side.
What was your secret for captivating Ain?
Did you offer up your virginity to Ain, unbecoming of a nun?
I could have given him that much too, easily.
What did I lack compared to this woman before me?
If you were going to die, you should have died alone and quietly.
That's what the gift I sent through a servant was for.
If only Father and Ain had continued their conversation just a bit longer as planned.
Ain wouldn't have even noticed what you drank that made you end up like that.
Why the fuck did only Ain die and this useless thing—
This broken human who can't even speak properly anymore was so important to you?
Not me, who spent a lifetime with you, but this woman.
I should have frozen her to death along with Giselle when that bitch carried her here.
Unlike Giselle who already committed suicide, I could still do it to this woman even now.
Stop this mouth of mine that's pouring out resentment haphazardly.
Just strangle that thin neck right now with all my strength and break it.
"Bring him back. Please bring him back. Don't Blessings have something like that?
Just bring back Ain alone. I won't ask for much.
You, no. Sister. Ah, please... bring Ain back..."
But what poured out as thickly as my resentment in this downpour was none other than begging.
I must have gone mad too.
I already know full well that bringing someone back to life is impossible.
Why am I spouting such useless questions?
This isn't what I should be doing for Ain.
I should be commemorating him by ending this rag's life...
"A-Ain... I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry... No, actually. Everything, everything was my..."
I'm not sorry.
I only did it for my brother.
I didn't do it because I hated that straw-colored, stupid-looking hair.
I didn't do it after silently opening the prayer room door and seeing the nun shamelessly sitting on your lap.
I didn't do it because someone else was occupying your shabby house that I still hadn't visited.
Not because this woman made my efforts useless and kept you far from your family.
"A-Ain, Ain... I, I... Because of me..."
Was my proposal, my plan so terrible?
Still, bearing the family name would have made it easier to look after Ain.
In Ain's house, which I visited for the first time, nothing remained.
Not a single thing left to remember Ain by.
It was full of only things I didn't know.
I live picking up only the memories Ain painted for me.
I've lived my whole life recalling only the childhood you brightened.
Now I can't remember anything, Ain.
Of what you left behind, the only thing somewhat familiar is this nun I ruined.
This person is your keepsake.
"A-Ain... entrusted me, so... y-you'll be... c-comfortable..."
Even though there's no longer anyone for me to be shy around.
Why have I been stuttering since earlier?
Thunder, hail, storms, lightning—none of it frightens me anymore.
I just, Ain.
My younger brother.
To the day I first became conscious of you.
To that day when I could no longer control the feelings I held.
To that time when you came to my room to comfort me, frightened by thunder.
I just wanted to go back to that time when you held my hand and stroked my hair.
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3.
A snowflake still fluttering in the room touched my cheek and melted.
I don't quite understand the scene before my eyes.
"Ain...?"
What was on the floor I'd been touching earlier?
What is that thing that staggered and collapsed?
What is that glinting red in its mouth?
I pushed aside the ice hitting my knees and went toward the fallen thing.
I placed it on my lap and examined it slowly.
Ain, my younger brother.
Dead. The corners of his mouth twisted mockingly.
I began to remember where that gaze and mouth had been directed.
At me.
He died hating me.
Mm. Rather than saying he hated me, "was fucking disgusted" would probably be more accurate.
I tried imitating Ain's increasingly coarse speech habits that came to mind.
Right, Ain. You were right.
I must have mistaken my feelings because I couldn't control my lust.
Loving a blood-related sibling—such an insane person shouldn't exist in this world.
The heat I felt every time you touched me, it all had that reason.
Just as you didn't love me, I didn't love you either.
Yes, I'm certain.
My feelings toward Ain were all just sympathy for an unfortunate family member.
Yeah. So I can overcome this.
But seeing how only the snowflakes touching your face won't melt.
I don't think I can continue this deception.
I'm sorry, Ain.
I'm sorry. For being this kind of older sister.
I'm sorry that someone like me, reeking like a whore, is your sister.
I'm sorry for thinking of hurting you again when you were already covered in wounds.
I shouldn't have been greedy.
This much, no.
Just holding hands and walking around like when we were young would have been enough.
I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable every time you looked at me.
I'm sorry for having this ugly hair color that resembles Father.
I'm sorry for loving you, Ain.
I'm sorry for forgetting my place.
I should have been satisfied remaining as your fence.
The room looking entirely gray probably isn't just because it's covered in snow.
How much did you hate me to die in that way?
Did you despise me that much?
I only imagined it.
That drug, I only sent it disguised as a gift to Giselle who was tormenting you.
I really didn't do anything to the nun.
I only had a dream about that nun I briefly encountered.
I can't control even my dreams.
I can't forget the sight of you dying over and over in my dreams.
It's definitely a dream, yet the tears I shed in front of your house and gravestone are too vivid.
Every time I see your chest and wrists, my heart fills with anxiety.
I keep checking to see if there are scars I don't know about.
Even without you cursing me like that, how could I forget you, Ain?
But if I must remember, I wanted it to be a slightly more tender moment.
—Creak
At the sound of the locked window opening, I suddenly looked up.
I stared at the jet-black dress hem invading the white space.
"Giselle...?"
Giselle's eyes were fixed only on Ain's corpse lying on my lap.
As if I weren't even in this room, she only looked at Ain.
Her gaze moved slowly, finally reaching Ain's pierced jaw.
Without a word, Giselle began looking around the room, picked up the largest piece of ice at her feet, and without hesitation pierced her own throat.
Silently, as if merely guessing and imitating what Ain had done.
Is that mist-like motion the answer?
Is committing suicide like Giselle what I should do now?
Melting the white floor with blood as red as her eyes.
Tearing at her throat until her strength runs out—is that the action I should take?
But Ain, you can only dream if you're alive.
Besides, there's no way you'd be happy if filth like me followed you.
As you said, I need to cherish you even in dreams, so I'll keep living.
Still, this is too cruel.
How am I supposed to live without you? Your older sister.