Chapter 195
Chapter 195
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 195
Chapter Title: For My Little Sister
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A room lit up by mana lamps everywhere, bright as midday.
A deep night, with the moon hanging in the southern sky.
A sheet of paper as big as a person laid out on the floor, and there I was, up on the desk with my arms crossed, staring down at it.
If Emily saw this, she'd whimper, "Some people just can't be changed!" It was a horrific sight.
And why was I doing something this bizarre? Obviously because I wasn't happy with the clothes.
A line that folds in like a tulip—what's commonly called a pencil skirt—changes in mobility and feel with even the slightest shift in angle, so it has to be shaved down with utmost care.
Otherwise, it could end up feeling like a log bundled in cloth.
You can create a pretty angle and add a slit for mobility, but here there's the constraint that no skin can show, so the slit has to be cut carefully, and the lining fabric added without being noticeable.
That's why I'm pulling an all-nighter, bracing for Emily to chew me out.
Plus, this time I had an invincible reason that wouldn't get me scolded.
'My little sister.'
The youngest of the family, born about a year and three months after me, and from Emily's perspective, the baby miss of the household she serves.
Who could complain about a big brother burning the midnight oil for such a child?
No matter how much Emily prioritizes my health, family affection is something she can't beat.
"Hmm... Should I shave off just one more degree?"
Armed with that invincible logic, even as I pulled off the eccentricity of climbing onto the desk, my conclusion was to shave off just one degree.
You might think it's stupid to go this far for one degree on a skirt, but in a pencil skirt, one degree holds tremendous significance.
A pencil skirt gradually narrows from the hips, boasting its slimmest circumference at the hem.
But what about a long pencil skirt that reaches the ankles?
On average, the distance from a woman's hips to her ankles is about 75cm.
Taller women naturally have more, and those with long legs even more so.
Using the simple math we learned as kids to calculate the hem width, a one-degree change alters the width by about 1-2cm.
The circumference changes even more dramatically, by 2-4cm.
Thinking of that as waist size, it's a full one or two sizes different.
"Just one more degree."
It's pretty enough now, but one more degree and a 1cm longer slit would make it truly beautiful.
With that thought, I climbed down from the desk, pencil and eraser in hand, and flopped onto the floor.
"Young Master, please get up."
As I rubbed the eraser over the paper to wipe away the old line, a very familiar voice came from above my head.
It was similar to the words she used to wake me in the morning, but the emotion in her voice was the complete opposite.
"Ugh... She's already here...?"
I dropped what I was holding and slowly turned my head.
"Emily..."
Sure enough, it was Emily.
She was in strange attire—nightgown with an apron—but it was Emily.
I'd heard the Grim Reaper never appears while you're preparing.
But the Reaper showed up sooner than expected.
"Why are you staring at me like you've seen a ghost?"
"No... it's nothing..."
I prepared to plead, filling my voice with the emotions welling up from deep inside, while making the most pitiful face I could.
"Emily, you see..."
"Shall I make some tea?"
"What?"
Tea? Actual tea?
In the middle of the night?
"What is this, a fake...?"
Facing the horrifying reality that Emily wasn't scolding me, I denied it and kneaded her cheek.
But no matter how much I kneaded, no mask or makeup came off.
"It's not fake...?"
Far from discerning a fake, I only learned how soft and squishy Emily's cheek was.
More than that, this is kinda addictive.
"Oh..."
"Young Master, I'm starting to feel like I should scold you right now."
"Sorry."
Forgetting my goal and keeping at it, Emily finally got mad.
I hastily pulled my hand away from her cheek and apologized. Emily shot me a displeased look while gently rubbing her reddened cheek.
"Are you going to sleep?"
"Soon."
"No intention of sleeping well, huh? When do you plan to go to bed?"
"If I just draw these four lines, I think it'll be a really pretty dress. Just 30 more minutes..."
"That'll turn into three hours. It's just past midnight— you're saying you'll sleep at dawn?"
"Yeah..."
I tried a little numerical fudging to persuade Emily, but it didn't land at all.
With my inner thoughts laid bare, I nodded glumly, hoping for at least less nagging.
"Tea or coffee—which would you prefer?"
Even after I lied, Emily smiled like she'd expected it and offered tea or coffee.
No matter which I picked, it was permission to stay up a bit later.
"Um... you're not mad?"
I glanced at her slyly, questioning the choice Emily would never make.
"I've known this would happen since Miss Hayes asked me. I expected it from day one, but you've held out a whole month—that's pretty patient for you, Young Master. You secretly dote on Miss Hayes, don't you?"
"Hah, what? Me? This is just... gotta do it right now so she doesn't bug me later..."
"Keep lying, Young Master, and I'll shut that mouth for you."
"......"
I clamped my mouth shut immediately.
"Everyone knows you dote on Miss Hayes, so stop acting all coy about it."
"It's not like that..."
"What do you mean 'not'? Your reaction changes whenever you see Miss Hayes. You keep your distance from others, but with her, you're totally at ease."
"Sigh... Emily, could you do black tea?"
To hurry Emily along and get rid of her nonsense, I let out a deep sigh and shook my head.
But Emily just shrugged, grinning like she didn't care that I was signaling I didn't want to talk.
"Hee hee~ Are you embarrassed, Young Master?"
"No, I just want to finish up and sleep."
"Sure, sure, I'll go with that."
Gazing at me like I was cute, Emily turned and trotted out of the room.
"Tsk..."
I watched her go with a weary look and plopped into a chair.
It had been ages since I'd felt even a twinge of dislike for Emily.
_ Feeling down, and with Emily off making tea anyway.
I figured I'd sort my thoughts while sipping, so I gazed out the window.
"Haa..."
What can I say.
I'd tried hard to play it off, but Hayes was someone special to me.
Not just because she's family—more special than the rest of the family, I suppose?
The reason isn't anything grand.
We're close.
But that one reason meant a lot to me.
Because as a kid, I was pretty damn pathetic.
My timid nature and aversion to people were the same from my previous life, so suddenly losing my family and friends was way too much stress.
I wasn't some superhuman; getting my life reset and tossed into isolation broke this fragile guy.
If I'd had some special power, I could've deluded myself mentally, but no mana, no holy power, not even smart—just a bit more mature than others.
So I kept distance from everyone.
Using my shyness as a shield, holing up in my room, doing just enough so no one dragged me out forcibly.
Calling Mom and Dad "Father" and "Mother" instead.
That started the reason for calling siblings "Brother" and "Sister" instead of bro or sis.
Those honorifics created distance.
Sure, you'd have to use them eventually as you grow up, but a kid just learning to talk doing it carries weight.
In private, calling "Mommy" and acting spoiled, trailing after siblings yelling "Big Bro! Big Sis!"—that's what kids do.
But a two- or three-year-old going "Brother," "Sister," "Father," "Mother" disappointed the family, but what could they do?
Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence—but this life could vanish suddenly too.
Dumb logic, I know, but that's why I didn't want to do anything with others.
Getting close to family scared me.
This worked fine until I was about five.
Other families figured it'd improve eventually and watched, and I never crossed the line.
But as Hayes grew, she wouldn't leave me alone.
[Hey! Bat! Play with me!]
[???]
Whether I holed up or kept distance, she barged in like it was her business.
Calling me "Bat" and dragging me to the garden—that was when I was six and she was five.
So absurd I yelled at her, ran away, tried everything, but nothing worked.
Once I even mustered resolve and hit the tiny kid, but she bawled back to her room—then next day dragged me out grinning.
From Hayes' side, she had no choice: Dorothy Sis right above me was four years older than me, five than her.
No one else in the family to play with.
Realizing that, I gave up pushing Hayes away.
Unless I went full villain and beat her till she broke, she wouldn't quit playing with me.
Of course, the fear that this routine could vanish anytime didn't fully go away, so I didn't get close to anyone else.
To improve, it took Emily's presence, the family realizing this kid has no answers, and semi-forcing me into social stuff—like a national salvation decision.
But Hayes was the first to crack the walls I'd built.
So she couldn't help but be extra special to me.
She's the miracle doctor and professor who turned this hopeless idiot human.
Big bro pride stings, so I bicker needlessly instead of admitting it, but for Hayes, I'd do anything except die.
Actually, guarantees are tough too—the Bible says don't even swear oaths.
Anyway, anything but those two.
That's what having a little sister is, right?
"Tsk..."
Sorting thoughts just dredged up old stuff and soured my mood more.
Thinking about the past always bums me out.
The family now is great and I'm grateful, but getting dumped in this world unasked? Not grateful at all.
"Sigh—"
I set down the teacup and stood.
Time to finish up and make the prettiest dress ever.
A dumb big bro like me can only do little things like this.