Surviving My Half-Sister (5)
“Then, as long as you come back before evening, that should be fine, right?”
The young ladies selected as today's clients.
Two of them, pushed back in the queue, asked me side by side.
“That's right. Come whenever you're comfortable.”
Someone was already waiting inside.
They gave a light nod at my response and headed out.
Smooth sailing.
Most consultations went like this.
Not knowing when the previous one would end, once called, they'd step out for some fresh air, sort of.
It was a pretty clean system—no one stealing each other's time.
Of course, Chloe always waits up front.
Thinking about it, it was ridiculous.
Do you really have nothing better to do?
Anyway, with today's schedule fully set, I went out to change the sign.
That's when something caught my eye.
A woman in a plain dress.
Hood pulled low, approaching this way.
Red hair?
Strands peeking from under her hood were a vivid crimson.
A color I hadn't seen in a while.
Surprisingly rare—never spotted it outside the Sinclair family.
The red-haired woman stared straight at me.
Rooted at the shop entrance, her gaze fixed solely on me.
What the hell. Here for a consultation?
We're already closed.
Maybe I should say something—just as I opened my mouth—
Whoosh—
She spun around with an audible whoosh.
Even then, she twisted her head one last time to look at me.
Glare—
A sharp, piercing glare, then she vanished.
...What was that?
In that instant, a face flashed in my mind.
Right after possession.
That face that couldn't hide the surging irritation just from looking.
Veronica?
By the time her name surfaced, it was too late.
She'd already disappeared around the alley corner.
...What an idiot.
Glare and leave—what was the point of coming?
Then a voice called from inside.
“Teacher? Still not done~?”
A soft, leisurely urging.
Young ladies who'd had a few sessions were generally like this.
Like they didn't want to push.
Even their requests felt a bit softer.
“Yes, coming!”
I turned back inside.
...Whatever, if she doesn't come, she doesn't.
I had no idea why Veronica had come all this way.
But at least it wasn't about anything I needed.
The next few days passed as usual.
“This one, and this one, and finally this one.”
Pick three at random, hypnotize, and knead away.
But one thing had changed.
With noble young ladies as the main clients, the stories I heard shifted too.
Maids were straightforward.
Work's tough.
The young miss is moody.
Marie talks too much.
Listen to their woes, give 'em a hypnosis break—easy.
But the ladies? More like society gossip.
So-and-so's dress color is tacky.
Someone pinky-fingered their teacup wrong.
Mostly that stuff.
Pinky angle really that big a deal?
Mid-session with Fleur Viscountess, I flinched.
No wonder Chloe obsessed over teacup etiquette.
Not nagging—warnings.
Then came something intriguing.
“Oh, right—do you know about this?”
Fleur Viscountess folded her fan slightly.
Her sassy eyes scanned me briefly before she spoke.
“At the recent ball, Lady Sinclair left midway.”
Sinclair.
Veronica, huh.
My eyes changed, and her fan paused.
Caught red-handed expression.
She'd noticed my sudden interest, despite my casual listening.
But instead of continuing, she made me promise first.
“You won't tell anyone, right...?”
“Of course it's a secret. Protecting clients' privacy is counselor basics.”
Dunno about real counselors, but probably.
Relieved, she whispered low.
Lady Sinclair had stormed out mid-ball in a rage.
“Yelled at a nearby maid... pretty harshly.”
Her words trailed off subtly.
A breath after “at”—not just the maid.
Or maybe that “maid” wasn't even a maid.
Fleur's gaze flickered.
Her fan tip trembled faintly.
She knew better than to say more.
“She's not usually like that, but they've said she's been sensitive from headaches lately...”
Tough to respond.
Usually not, huh?
She was to me.
Whatever, skip that.
But headaches bad enough to bail mid-ball?
Didn't fit the Veronica I knew.
Always fretting over appearances and dignity.
Mid-exit in a world where pinky angles spark rumors?
Something she couldn't endure.
...Not my business anyway.
I shelved the thought.
Not my client—what's it to me.
Then one day.
Checking the line, something nagged.
Vivid scarlet hair at the back corner.
Someone in a plain coat, head slightly bowed.
Like hiding from prying eyes.
...Watching her, it was absurd.
Lining up means wanting a session, right?
Hiding from me while I pick?
What an idiot.
Fine, I'll play dumb.
Picked three from front and back, hung the sign.
-Today's Counseling is Closed-
The distant redhead kicked a pebble and vanished.
Next day.
Red hair mid-line.
Closer than yesterday.
Came early, huh.
Wasted effort.
Pulled three from front and back.
Nearby maid startled—probably got an earful.
Next day.
Near the front now.
Almost top three.
No need to call it redhead anymore.
Anyone could tell it was Veronica.
Hood up, but no hiding intent.
Head high.
Staring right at me.
Glare-like expression.
Scanned the line.
One lady right in front of Veronica.
One maid right behind.
Pretended to choose, eyes moving.
“This one, this one, and...”
My finger skipped the insolent redhead,
“The one behind you.”
Stopped at the maid I'd seen recently.
She pointed at herself in surprise.
“M-Me?”
“Yes.”
Felt Veronica's intense stare.
Right in her face, watching a maid picked instead.
No need to look more.
Behind me, undignified footsteps as I turned.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Venting frustration on the pavement.
Duke's daughter making that noise?
Society would've gossiped endlessly.
Oho, so impatient, Lady Veronica.
Awakened my inner lady, sneered full tilt.
Lady Veronica who scoffed at my 50 silvers haggling from 30.
Now she knows how it feels to be ignored.
Next morning.
Woke earlier than usual.
Something felt off.
Drew the curtains, peered out.
Pre-dawn, sun not up.
Dark alley, eerie vibe.
No one should be here, but...
What the—
Looked down—someone at the door.
Plain coat. Deep hood. Red hair.
You again...
Stared down long.
The shadow—surely Veronica—didn't budge.
Even pre-dawn.
Just standing there.
...Hah.
Scratched my head.
I'd ignored her for days.
Back to middle, middle to front.
Last time, pretended and picked another maid.
Veronica, duke's eldest, my half-sister.
Thought her pride would kill any return.
Dead wrong.
She'd been waiting since crack of dawn.
...Headaches that bad?
Or pride even stronger.
Openly snubbed, needs picking to satisfy.
...Kinda scary if true.
Threw on clothes, headed downstairs.
Hand on knob, hesitated.
...Really open?
She'd mocked my silver haggling.
Strictly, no reason to.
Creeeak—
Swallowed a sigh, opened it.
She knew that.
Yet came anyway—must be reason.
Eyes met Veronica's.
Bloodshot. Dark circles makeup couldn't hide.
How long standing?
How much pain endured?
She narrowed her eyes at me.
Trying to glare like old times, but couldn't even.
Trembling pupils with effort.
No intimidation—just pitiful.
Lips pressed tight even then.
Finally, cracked open:
-Closed Today-
“......It doesn't seem like there's a set time for lining up.”
Her voice cracked.
“R-Right...?”
Sleep-deprived rasp.
Even wrecked, head held high, staring.
...Stubborn one.
Annoying, sure.
Whatever the old body did, she mocked me—fact.
But that face...
Hard to ignore.
Like watching live human breakdown.
On the brink.
Slowly met her gaze.
I looked away first.
Stepped inside.
Hung a sign at the door.
Not the usual closed one—but the spare for rest days.
Her breathing roughened.
Fear I'd slam it shut?
Yeah, no choice.
If that wrecked, gotta lend a hand briefly.
“Come in.”
Said without turning.
No clue what hypnosis rest would do.
Might ease headaches.
Might not.
Still.
Better than nothing.
More than that...
She's family, so won't turn Chloe-level obsessed, right?