Surviving My Half-Sister (End) 18

Veronica, who had stepped into the counseling office, immediately tried to kneel before me again.

"Enough."

I grabbed her shoulders before her head could touch the floor.

Her vivid red hair cascaded over her rumpled dress.

The emblem of the Sinclair family.

The pride of the woman who once looked down on me with a sneer was now scattering away into nothingness, as if it held no value at all.

Pushing aside my complicated feelings for the moment, I spoke first.

"Sit down."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"……."

"I said sit."

I gently pushed her onto the sofa.

Her posture was hunched, as if even leaning back was a luxury she didn't deserve.

Her gaze fixed on the floor, hands clasped on her lap.

She looked like a child being punished.

"I dared to think I'd been forgiven."

"……."

"When I didn't even deserve it…."

And then she continued her apologies, just like she had outside.

I had no idea how things had spiraled this far.

Sure, I'd used hypnosis on her.

But all I'd done was repurpose, almost verbatim, the words she believed another young lady had heard from me.

At most, something utterly innocuous like "lighten the burden on your heart."

She'd taken that to mean she'd been forgiven on her own, and it had led to this.

For whatever reason, she now seemed convinced that the forgiveness she'd received was a lie from the start.

…To be precise, I never actually said I forgave her.

But that wasn't because I couldn't forgive her.

It was simply that there was nothing to forgive in the first place.

If that had settled it, great—but now who knew what was going on.

I let out a deep internal sigh.

Comforting herself with words I never said.

Tormenting herself over some inexplicable reason.

And the conclusion she'd reached? A public apology.

In front of everyone, as a noble lady.

…What a headache.

Who was supposed to deal with the aftermath?

For now, what to do?

Should I just forgive her?

I tried it out experimentally.

"Alright, I forgive you."

But it backfired spectacularly.

"…You're just forcing it… because of me…."

Her eyes reddened as if they might burst, and she bowed her head.

Disgusted with herself for wringing out forgiveness by force, maybe.

Haa.

Okay, analysis complete.

What this woman needed wasn't "I forgive you" coming from my mouth.

She wouldn't believe it anyway.

If my direct words were useless, there was only one option left.

Make her reach the conclusion herself, inside her own head.

And the only way to enable that was this.

Fixing a hypnosis-blown situation with more hypnosis was absurd.

But bluntly put, this mess wasn't caused by hypnosis.

She was just rampaging on her own for some reason even I couldn't fathom.

Yeah.

She was rampaging right now.

In a way that was self-destructing.

So I had to suppress it.

With one sentence inserted into her mind just before she woke.

"Just saying 'forgiven' won't cut it."

The obvious idea was to leave her with the conclusion that I'd forgiven her.

But planting the same words that had just failed as her final takeaway? Who knew what explosion that might trigger later.

Alright, let's give her some grounds for it.

Proof she could accept that she'd been forgiven.

…Family, huh.

No matter how I pondered, that was all that came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up.

Who'd have thought I'd resort to using that word.

It wasn't even funny.

Trying to handle the people who'd kicked me out with a "family" line.

But it'd probably be the most effective.

Family was a frame that defied logic.

A bond where you're not outsiders, no matter what.

The one relationship that didn't need a reason for forgiveness.

The plan was set.

But first, one thing to make crystal clear.

Outside.

The people who'd seen her kneel.

Nobles and maids alike—people connected to high society.

"One thing I need to say."

"……."

"About what you did out there."

Her shoulders twitched.

She was aware.

"You handle that. Whether it's silencing witnesses or managing rumors. It's all on you."

"……."

"Don't dump it on me, or it'll get really ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠annoying."

It might've sounded a bit harsh, but it needed saying.

If word of what happened outside spread, it'd be a headache for sure.

And honestly, from what I'd seen, her punishment was already a form of atonement.

Forcing someone like that to keep dwelling on her wrongs and demanding more apologies would just spin her in circles forever.

To stop it, I had to give her a real task.

She slowly lifted her head.

Her eyes bloodshot red.

But what rose in them wasn't defiance or resentment.

She nodded.

"Veronica."

"……."

I called her name cautiously.

She slowly looked up at me.

Alright, time to do it for real.

Wrap up her heart.

"How about a little chat."

Most of it would happen in her head, but still.

This time, I didn't loosen her body or anything.

I just let her lie there and sleep.

Then the phrase "effect amplified on contact" popped into my mind, so I stroked her hair a bit.

"I'm sorry……."

Sleep-talking.

Even deep in sleep, she was mumbling that.

How much was she tormenting herself?

As I stroked her head over and over, the time came quickly.

Her deeply bowed head slowly rose.

The moment life flickered back into her hazy eyes.

I timed it perfectly.

"Veronica. I forgive you for everything up until now."

To make sure it didn't end there.

"We're family, right?"

I said it all, planting solid grounds inside her.

She slowly looked up at my face.

Her hazy eyes cleared, staring blankly at me for a long while before neatly clasping her hands on her lap.

She stood from her seat.

Said nothing.

But the way she looked up at me was different.

No fitting word came to mind, but if I had to describe it….

…It didn't feel like she was looking at a person?

Still, hoping it wasn't veering into weird territory again, I watched her anxiously.

"Ah……."

A sound of awe escaped her.

Then she averted her gaze, as if embarrassed.

"Just to say it again, to you I…."

"Stop."

Whatever it was, probably another apology.

Anyway, it seemed more or less sorted.

At least her words were coming out easier now.

Good enough.

"It's fine. We're family."

I gave her an awkward smile and took her neatly clasped hands in mine.

Gripping them firmly, as if infusing strength.

"Right?"

Emphasizing it once more.

"……."

At my action, she smiled faintly.

Yes, because we're family.

She murmured softly and stood.

"…I've caused you a lot of trouble."

She knew that much.

So she knew whose job it was to handle it too, right?

"Don't worry about the outside stuff. I'll take care of it."

Her tone was calm.

Not the quivering voice from before, but the voice of someone assuming responsibility.

Shoulders back, steps toward the door.

No hesitation.

Then she paused at the door and turned.

"It's between us, after all, right?"

And she was gone.

Whatever it was, she'd handle it herself.

No matter how tough or hard.

It felt like a somewhat hollow ending, but then I realized something, and my face stiffened.

Way too late.

She was already gone.

"…My counseling fee."

I'd let her go in the natural flow again.

Why did she keep leaving without paying?

After that, Veronica never visited the counseling office again.

Instead, letters came steadily.

The first one's contents went something like this.

Little brother.

Big sis.

I hesitated at the word choice for a moment.

She'd never even called me by name before.

Was this the power of "family"?

A bit creepy, but the results weren't bad.

Better let it slide.

The second letter.

…She didn't mean managing me, right?

Yeah, slide past this one too.

The third letter.

Hold up.

My pillow?

And she hugs it to sleep?

Was family correspondence in this romance-fantasy world always this vibe?

It felt off, but I didn't know noble culture here well enough yet.

Siblings probably expressed emotions like this.

Probably.

I tried to brush it off casually and write a reply.

That's when it happened.

Bang.

The counseling office door flew open urgently.

Radiant golden blonde hair.

Sapphire-blue eyes.

And moisture gathering at the corners.

It was Chloe.

"Teacher!"

She was out of breath.

Clearly, she'd run here.

The famously prim Lady Chloe Levantia stood there with her hair disheveled.

"Teacher, did that Sinclair lady do something to you!?"

"I'm fine."

"How can you say you're fine? Rumors are flying in high society! They say your counseling office has some connection to the Sinclair family…!"

"Ah, that."

I spoke as calmly as possible.

It was true, after all.

"It's nothing, Miss Chloe. An acquaintance stopped by, but it wasn't anything rough."

"No way! You were threatened, right? Right? Veronica Sinclair, I won't forgive—"

"No, really, I'm fine. Veronica didn't do anything."

I meant it.

Bowing her head, crying, and leaving without paying—that was it.

But.

Chloe's expression was strange.

Like she'd overheard something she shouldn't have.

…What was this?

First, I needed to change the mood.

"Miss Chloe, could I trouble you for a cup of tea?"

"……."

She sat still, staring at me.

Her sapphire eyes didn't waver.

No usual shyness or excitement.

Just peering in quietly.

"Is something wrong?"

"…You call me by name so easily."

She murmured softly and stood.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her footsteps were heavier than usual.

Was she angry about something?

A moment later, she brought the tea.

I took a sip.

…It was scalding hot.

Unlike her, had she messed up somehow?

If it was a mistake, I'd pretend not to notice.

As I set the tea down, Chloe's gaze lingered on the table.

The letters.

Veronica's latest was still open.

"A letter? And you're in the middle of replying."

"Yes, that's right."

"…Helen had to fetch replies for some people."

"…?"

She murmured again.

She was full of mutterings today.

I was going to let it slide as self-talk, but thinking about it, it was time to reply.

No Helen around—maybe Chloe would check it for me.

"Um, Miss Chloe."

"Yes."

"Could you take a look at this reply for me? Let me know if anything's off…."

"Haa."

Her eyes widened as she snatched the letter.

She read it out deliberately, letter by letter.

"To. Ve. Ro. Ni. Ca."

She paused for a beat.

"Good grief."

Then she read my half-written reply.

"Let's. Keep. That. Day's. Matter. A. Secret. Between. Us."

Chewing each word like it was gristle.

"Good grief."

The letter flew across the table.

Chloe quietly opened her mouth.

"That's weird."

"I heard from Helen."

"That you only exchange letters with me."

"That it took so much effort just to get called by name."

"That some people had to beg Helen for even a reply."

Her words poured out rapidly.

She flashed a smile that felt contrived.

And said,

"It's weird. My Isaac wouldn't do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that. Right?"