Sisterly Tenderness
Urtic Mirhane had been frail from birth. Unlike her eldest sister Frederica, who enjoyed hunting and swordsmanship, Urtic had been born with such a weak body that she'd nearly been stillborn. If Eclair au Chocolat hadn't come to the Mirhane household, or if the witch hadn't taken pity on a mere child, Urtic would have died without a doubt. Before she'd even been alive for a full day.
Frequent minor illnesses. Stamina so low that running was impossible. To overcome those limits somehow, Urtic had become Eclair's disciple. With a witch's spells, she could survive without burdening others anymore.
"... "
In the dark room, Urtic opened her eyes. She felt her throbbing head, dry throat, and gritty eyes. And soon enough, she realized she was lying in her own bed, not slumped in the side room of the library. How did I fall asleep here? Urtic racked her hazy memory. Blurry recollections, heat in her head. Another fever? Or some other illness?
"Sniff... "
"...?"
While dazedly sorting her thoughts, Urtic turned at the sound of breathing nearby. There was a familiar face. Bathory Mirhane, the youngest of the Mirhane family. Only then did the fog in Urtic's mind start to clear.
She could recall why Bathory had fallen asleep slumped over, clutching her hand tightly.
Urtic, I'm here.
Urtic caught a cold.
It's time to eat.
No appetite...?
Eat anyway. Gotta line your stomach before the medicine.
It might not have been a real cold—she couldn't be sure—but something like it had definitely struck. She was certain of that.
What... is this...?
Just think of it as easy-to-eat stuff.
And Bathory had nursed her like that, tending to her sick older sister with utmost care.
Here, ahh.
No need to open too wide.
Ugh... Don't spill...
It's fine if you spill. Just eat a little at a time.
Mm...
With sincere, heartfelt devotion.
There. Now sleep.
Don't... gooo...
In the face of that devoted care, Urtic had whined like a child without thinking.
...Okay.
I'll stay till Eclair comes. Sleep easy.
Bathory had indulged her little tantrum.
"... "
Her face burned. The ticklish sensation in her heart proved it wasn't just the fever. This was embarrassment.
Overwhelmed by the shame rising through her body, Urtic buried her face.
"Ugh... "
She'd been nursed by her little sister—and whined for her not to leave. She'd fallen into a deep sleep with her sister by her side.
How's anyone supposed to tell who's the big sister and who's the little one here? I can't even act my age, and my pride as the older sister is all crumpled up.
Not that I ever had any to begin with.
She tried to kick off the blankets in her tangled emotions, but her frail stamina couldn't even manage that properly.
In the end, after silently screaming into the void, she turned her gaze to Bathory.
What kind of person was Bathory Mirhane?
If someone asked, Urtic could answer in one word: spoiled.
Frederica the eldest and Urtic the second had grown up under strict education. The difference was that Frederica endured it and became an exemplary noble lady, while Urtic couldn't.
But Bathory was different. Their parents weren't harsh with her at all. Perhaps out of guilt for neglecting their youngest while pouring all their attention into frail Urtic, they were especially lenient with Bathory.
So it was only natural that Bathory, raised on indulgence, turned out spoiled and willful.
Bathory envied her sisters. The model Frederica and the sickly Urtic, who hogged their parents' concern—Bathory hated them both.
At some point, Urtic felt something else had mixed into those emotions. She wasn't sure what, or why that sticky resentment had blended in.
That's why Frederica and Urtic disliked Bathory too. Frederica despised her utter lack of noble grace, and Urtic avoided the one-sided hatred and torment.
For blood sisters, the distance between them and Bathory had been too vast.
Until recently, anyway.
How can a person change so overnight? Urtic was astonished at Bathory's transformation.
It must have started that day. When Bathory came back unconscious from a bad injury while following Frederica, then burst into the library sobbing and clung to her sister she usually ignored.
Urtic had been flustered. And from that day, Bathory changed—at least in Urtic's eyes.
Was the change welcome? Somewhat yes, somewhat no. The old days had been more comfortable, in a way. Back then, Bathory never set foot in the library where Urtic holed up.
Except for rare cases like the Eclair incident, they'd ignored each other like strangers.
But now Bathory was such a hassle. Eating, sleeping, washing, dressing—she meddled in every little thing, pestering endlessly. Sometimes—always, really—it got annoying.
Yet on the other hand, Urtic liked it. Annoying as it was, she secretly cherished the affection and care woven into that meddling.
It felt different from what she got from Eclair, Frederica, her parents, or the servants.
Before she knew it, Urtic had let Bathory into her domain without a second thought.
"... "
Urtic gently placed her hand on her sister's head.
"Mm... "
She stroked it softly, careful not to wake her.
How long had it been since she'd touched her little sister's hair like this? Probably back when they were both very young. Before grudges piled up, when they just saw each other as beloved family.
"...Cute... "
It felt like returning to those days. Urtic smiled faintly.
――
...She's asleep.
I woke to the velvet texture against my cheek, realizing I'd dozed off without noticing. Well, I was exhausted. Passing out suddenly wasn't weird. I'd done it before when sleep-deprived—just close my eyes and black out.
"Ughhh... "
"Slept... well?"
"Whoa!"
As I stretched and sat up, a voice from the side made me topple backward chair and all.
How long was I out? Nighttime? It had to be night for her voice to be here.
"You okay...?"
"...Not a hallucination, huh."
But the voice was unmistakably Urtic's. And there she was, wide-eyed in the sunlight peeking through the curtains—not asleep at all. Definitely Urtic Mirhane.
"Fever... any better?"
"Yeah... thanks to you... "
"Lemme see. Hold on... Hmm, still a slight one. But way down from yesterday."
Forehead, behind the ear, nape of the neck. She checked everywhere with her hand. Yeah, the fever had dropped. Just a cold after all? I'd worried it might be something worse.
"Eclair still not back?"
"Heard she's off meeting another witch. Probably... back today... "
"Good."
If she hadn't returned by today, I'd have called a doctor right away. Fever down or not, she needed a proper checkup.
...That aside...
"...?"
"What's up...?"
"Nothing, just... "
...She's acting way warmer. No, definitely warmer. She never smiled at me like that before.
"...Batho, ri... "
"...Huh? What'd you just say...?"
"Bathory, Bathory... "
Even calling my name nonstop. With a bright smile, no less.
Was Urtic always this type? I'd have known if I'd read the original properly.
"...Thanks."
"Uh... sure."
A thank-you I'd never expected in my life—and I dropped the act, blurting out a dumb reply.
I hadn't anticipated this. Her opening up so fast.
"... "
Still... looks like my devoted nursing paid off.
"Bathory... could you... help me up...?"
"You sure? Maybe rest more... "
"I'm fine. And... "
Urtic's expression softened even more as she made a request.
"Won't you... call me... sis...?"
"...Huh?"
A request so awkward it left me stumped.
"Uh... "
Well, if she wants it, I can. I've said worse in plays—honey, big bro, stuff like that.
Just... feels weird. How often does a guy call someone "sis" in life? I'm no slave hunter.
"Uh... si... sis... "
But ignoring that earnest gaze was too much pressure.
"Urtic... sis?"
I finally said it.
"...Hee... "
Something inside me chipped away. Like... my masculinity, maybe.