My Sister's Ideal Type Slays
"You mean right here?"
"What, you expect me to wait until I drag you up to my room? Like I'd let trash like you into my room?"
"Of course not. How could a worthless thing like me even dream of stepping foot in your room, Sister..."
She'd dragged me to her room just last week and beat the crap out of me. Said it was the most convenient spot for a good, thorough thrashing. What's her angle this time?
I ground my teeth inwardly as my sister swooped in the moment I stepped through the door, flexing her power like she owned the place—which she might as well. I'd figured she'd summon me eventually since I got back so late, but getting nabbed right in the entry hall? The servants scattered like roaches, leaving their lady to torment me in peace. Oh wait, I'm not a lady, am I? She's the precious lady, so they clear out to let her enjoy her whore-spawn half-sister. Life's a real bitch.
If I'd just been born the fifth wife's daughter, it wouldn't be this bad.
"Look at you, not jumping at my every word. Think you're hot shit now that you've gone on that blind date with Kane and actually amounted to something?"
"You're right. Father sent me out there to protect you."
"Exactly! If it weren't for you, that spot would've been mine!!"
Slap!!
My head snapped hard to the left amid her shrill screech. The metallic tang flooding my mouth confirmed the hit. She used to smack me just enough to sting back in the day, but constant practice had made her hand vicious. Now she could split my lip in one go.
Maybe it was the sharp pain and heat blooming in my cheek. Or the fury crawling up my scalp. Or maybe that lingering warmth from earlier. Whatever it was, I suddenly craved doing something reckless.
"Is that so? Doesn't look that way to me."
"Have you lost your mind?"
My head whipped left again, harder this time. Any further and my neck would've snapped. She always knew exactly where the line was—the bare minimum to keep me alive. Whatever. I was still breathing.
I confirmed it and started turning back toward her.
Slap!!
Before I could. No words this time—just the hit. Now blood trickled from my mouth alongside the iron taste. My whole inner cheek was shredded. Her hand was filthy strong.
Why hit me, though? Probably 'cause I dared look her in the eye. Fine, problem solved if I just don't look.
But she'd seen that trick years ago. Countermeasures were in place.
"Won't even look at your sister? No manners while I'm talking to you...!"
"Sorry— Kyaaak...!"
Even with my head turned, I sensed the kick flying at my gut and instinctively raised my arm to block. Pure reflex to protect my vital bits. Also the absolute worst thing I could've done.
Submission wasn't defiance. This was. I'd just handed her the perfect excuse—a righteous justification for whatever scrap of humanity lurked in her twisted heart.
Now the real beating would start. All under the noble banner of disciplining a defiant little sister who dared rebel against her sky-like superior.
Not that she'd ever truly seen me as family.
What a miserable bitch.
"Look up at your sister."
"Y-yes... Yes, Sister."
Slap!!
The shock of that sudden low blow had barely worn off when my cheek spun left again without fail. Her left hand was in play today, obsessively. At least no fists yet—meant she wasn't that pissed. When she really lost it, I'd lost teeth before.
Of course, our trusty potions fixed me right up every time, leaving my smile perfectly pristine.
"Hey. Strip."
"Y-yes..."
How many slaps had it been? My swollen, shredded mouth was slurring everything. It hurt like hell—I wanted to sob—but that'd just please her more. So I held it in.
Where'd that rebellious spark even come from? Now I had just one shot left. One more beating and it'd fizzle out completely.
So what now? Time my one outburst for maximum rage. Play nice until then.
Looking forward to it. It's been ages since I last fought back, and this'll be a good one.
That's why fantasies are addictive. Just planning it has my heart racing.
I plotted my strike against her while shedding the dress I hadn't even fully stripped for Kane. Standing in the vast entry hall in just my underwear? I'd done it enough times to be numb, but familiarity never kicked in. The urge to cover up, to dress again, surged wildly. Had to fight it down.
"Still wanna keep your underwear on?"
"S-Sister... at least the bloomers..."
"Shut up and strip. Kneel."
Fuck this. Even if the servants had cleared out, they'd have to pass through here to work. Strip here?
Whatever. If she says strip, I strip. That's life for a whore's daughter worth less than five silvers.
I clutched my one shot at rebellion inside while my trembling hands—trembling no matter how many times I'd done this—peeled off my underwear and set it beside the dress. Then I bowed my perfect naked body low, kneeling so she could look down on me in peace.
Couldn't see her face, but based on years of data, her lips were probably curling up right now. Satisfied at having crushed her pretty, talented bastard half-sister.
But I had a dagger of my own. Just wait.
"This suits you perfectly. On your knees like this, no climbing ambitions."
"Y-yes..."
"Head lower. Yeah, like that."
She forced my head down further, then ground her shoe heel into the back of my skull, pinning it to the floor. Small mercy: no outing today, so indoor flats instead of heels. Those were life-threatening on her off days.
My heart still pounded like mad, though. For different reasons.
Because it was time.
She'd pinned me like a dog. How pissed would she get if I bit back now?
Let's find out.
"Sister. I'm engaged to Kane. Congratulate me."
"What...?"
"Blind date went great today. No way a scumbag like him ends up with someone like you, so I— Cuk!"
"Say that again. Say it!!"
You crazy bitch, how am I supposed to talk with my face smashed into the floor like this?!
Did her pea brain not get that? She kept stomping anyway.
Thud thud thud thud.
My forehead battered the stone relentlessly, cracking open, blood trickling down. But amid it all, I couldn't stifle a giggling snort.
It hurt—goddamn it hurt. But this wasn't playtime anymore. She was furious because of me. Pure bliss.
Never done drugs, but first hit must feel like this ecstasy.
Thanks for the ammo, Kane.
But sis...
"S-Siiiister...! I'm gonna d-die?!!"
How long you gonna keep this up...? Am I actually dying...? Head's spinning like crazy?! Hey. Hey!!!
"Rebecca. That's enough."
"Brother...! But this bitch!!!"
"Can't kill her. She's merchandise for the third prince's official wife. Besides, Mother said only play up to potion-fixable levels."
"Ugh, screw it! I'm out!!"
Saved.
This spineless bystander. Always lurking in the shadows, swooping in at death's door to play hero.
How is everyone in this house such a dog?
I made your poor asses rich, you know. Gave everything for a scrap of family love. Should've let you rot in poverty.
I'll escape this hellhole someday. Mark my words.
"Maids. Take her and treat her."
"Yes, Young Master."
Cold as ice. I stared at my ascending sister with my battered head and blood loss making everything hazy. Seeing her like that? This damage felt cheap.
That satisfying sight was my last memory of the day.
...
Back at the palace, Kane slumped on the sofa in his crown prince brother's still-lit office, deep in thought. A blatant "ask me what's wrong" signal.
The crown prince, mid-work, had no choice.
"Kane. Something on your mind?"
"Yeah, Brother. I got engaged."
"Congrats. Who's the fiancée? And what's the worry?"
"Lea from Count Luniel's house. She's sweet, but her family's a mess."
"Want me to wipe them out?"
"Nah. Not unless she asks."
Kane recalled his fiancée's body from their first meeting as he replied. Even he, who barely noticed women, had instantly thought: beautiful.
Flawless skin—not a blemish, not a single pore out of place.
But that perfection troubled him more. It was too ideal. Doll-like, factory-fresh. Unnatural for someone who'd lived a decade-plus.
"Anything you need, just say. I could even hand over the crown prince spot."
"I'd pass even if you did."
"Pity."
Kane brushed off the sales pitch and mulled over his sudden fiancée until sleep claimed him. Still thinking.