Reincarnated as the Twin Sister of the Heroine I Cheered For
I never thought that a guy who had even served his time in the military would end up as a woman—specifically, the twin younger sister of the heroine I used to root for in that novel. If they were going to drop me into the story, they could have at least kept me as a man. Then I could have made her happier than that indifferent protagonist ever did.
I opened my mouth to vent the frustration boiling up inside me, but all that came out was incoherent babbling. I quickly clamped it shut again.
'What a cheapskate. I cheered you on without a single complaint through that whole week of nothing but frustrating chapters.'
Rather than quietly accepting this situation, I poured every curse I could think of at the author who had written it. Some time passed before my overheated mind slowly cooled, and I finally became aware of my circumstances. The creepy sensation I remembered right before losing consciousness made one thing clear no matter how I looked at it: I was dead.
'Ugh… To think I died like this.'
All because I left one comment complaining about the novel’s ending. Overnight, this was what I got. Fresh injustice crept up inside me as I thought about everything I had achieved before dying. The money I had scraped together, a decent job, a house where I could actually rest…
'Wait. When I actually list it all out, I realize I hadn’t achieved a single thing.'
My salary disappeared into student loans the moment it hit my account. The only nice things about my job were the yellow dog that wagged its tail in greeting at the entrance and the fact that my paycheck never came late. My rented room was so noisy at night because some lunatic would get drunk and scream at the top of his lungs that I often couldn’t sleep at all.
'Maybe this life is actually an improvement.'
As I reflected on what I had built in my previous life, I seriously began to think that—setting aside the whole “being a woman” part—this new existence might be better. Right then, the sound of a door bursting open reached my ears. Wondering if these might be my parents in this life, I rolled my eyes toward the approaching footsteps and saw two boys who looked like early teenagers, just before their growth spurts.
'Arlan Lorelei and Aran Lorelei.'
Their pale green hair—the same shade as Lene’s and now mine—immediately told me they were the eldest and second sons of the Lorelei family. I narrowed my eyes at their faces. In the original novel they had only been mentioned in a few lines; their blunt, indifferent personalities had made the already timid Lene’s life difficult. Yet the two of them were staring at me with eyes sparkling with pure curiosity.
'This is different from what I remember.'
Their expressions didn’t look blunt or indifferent at all. As the question rose in my mind, they reached out toward me while I blinked at them, then stopped just short and let out a soft, hesitant breath. It reminded me of the time a stray cat wandered into the military supply depot and gave birth. I had wanted to touch the wriggling kittens in their mother’s embrace but held back, afraid I might hurt them. Seeing the same cautious look on their faces, I smiled. They smiled back with identical expressions.
“Arlan, Aran!”
The pair had been grinning at Lene and me, but they jumped at the sharp voice calling their names from the open door and quickly stepped back. As the scolding continued, I sat there laughing by myself when a thought occurred to me: maybe the reason the brothers were acting so differently from the novel was because I—René, Lene’s twin sister—was alive.
'If that’s true…'
If it really was, then I might be able to change Lene’s unhappy childhood into something completely different from the original. Instead of meeting her after she had already suffered and trying to make her happy, wouldn’t giving her a happy childhood make her even happier?
'…If my brain had worked this well during the college entrance exam, I might have gotten into a better school.'
I felt rather proud of what even I considered a solid idea, but the regret that followed only soured my mood, so I let it go. There was no point dwelling on the past now. It was time to focus on the present and the future ahead.
'Just like that comment the author left in the epilogue, I’ll have to fix my own complaints myself.'
Recalling the author’s epilogue comment, I set my first goal for this life and rolled my eyes to the side. Even though my older brothers were being scolded nearby, I spoke to their peacefully sleeping faces.
“Oo, ooo, aa.”
What came out was the same babble as before, but I rationalized that they couldn’t hear me anyway since they were sound asleep.
“Miss, let it all out nicely.”
“…Kgh.”
“Hehe, well done.”
After that, I felt a wave of self-loathing at having to summon people with gestures, hand signals, and babbling just to get help with things I couldn’t do alone. But I brushed it off with the thought that it couldn’t be helped—I was literally a newborn. For now, the priority was to grow steadily until I could manage on my own.
Five years had passed since I opened my eyes inside the novel after writing one wrong comment. I now had a neat set of baby teeth, spoke clearly, and my once-tiny arms and legs had grown enough that I could walk around decently by myself. I let out a sigh as I reflected on those first few years when I had needed constant help from others.
During that time I had used every bit of knowledge I possessed to keep things from following the original plot. I changed Arlan and Aran’s blunt, indifferent personalities and brightened Lene’s own character. Thanks to my efforts, the once-quiet Lorelei Marquisate—described in the novel as so silent it reminded people of a monastery—had become a warm, harmonious home filled with laughter.
“René, what are you thinking about?”
“Um… the dinner menu.”
“Aah, they did say they’d make something delicious today.”
“Yeah…”
“Hehe, I can’t wait.”
Perhaps because she had been affected by the changes the most, Lene had moved far away from the timid, quiet heroine with the tragic past I used to cheer for. She smiled often now and was full of energy. As I wondered whether I had done a good job, Lene—wearing the same face as mine—tilted her head in confusion.
“René. Are you still thinking about food?”
“…This time it’s dessert.”
“Dessert… Oh, let’s ask for fruit today. The butler said there’s a bumper harvest, so they’re really tasty and there’s lots of them.”
“It’s not windmill, it’s bumper harvest.”
“Aah, right. Bumper harvest. I mixed them up again!”
Maybe it was because the only person her age in this huge mansion was me, her younger sister. At some point Lene had started sticking right by my side, and today she was chattering away with topics that would give me a headache if I didn’t concentrate.
I had briefly drifted into other thoughts, then hurriedly caught up with the changed subject and played along. Dealing with a young child made me realize firsthand just how difficult it was, and I belatedly offered my deepest respect to kindergarten teachers, pediatricians, and nurses everywhere.
“So yesterday in my dream this weird fish appeared…”
She had been talking about the shapes of clouds floating in the sky, but the topic had shifted to last night’s dream. I nodded along until I spotted Aran—who had shot up in height after his growth spurt—sauntering over from the opposite direction. To escape Lene’s endless chatter even for a moment, I waved at him in greeting.
“What’s up? Where are you headed?”
“Just following my feet wherever they take me.”
“…Sometimes I really wonder if you’re actually a kid.”
He approached after my greeting, tilted his head at my answer, then chuckled as if he was used to it by now when I shrugged vaguely. He turned to Lene, exchanged a few words with her, then shook his head in distaste. To change the subject, he suggested that if we had nowhere else to go, we should drop by the kitchen.
“The kitchen?”
“Yeah. The head chef said he’s making fruit cookies this time.”
“Why didn’t you say that sooner!”
“Wow, you really do get like this even when I tell you.”
Aran muttered with an incredulous look at Lene, who had raised her voice at the word “cookies,” then said he had done his part and quietly slipped away. I turned my head to stop him, not willing to let him escape like that, but Lene grabbed my sleeve and tugged first.
“René! Let’s hurry to the kitchen!”
She said the two of us asking together would get us a share. I agreed that the marquisate’s precious young ladies would surely be indulged, then followed after Lene as she took the lead, practically dragging me along.
The servants we passed smiled at how cute we looked and greeted us. We bowed our heads in return. When we noisily arrived at the kitchen and showed our faces, the chef handed over a huge pile of mouthwatering cookies before we could even speak. We thanked him sincerely.
“Lene. And René. Didn’t we agree to only have a little snack after lunch and dinner?”
“B-but we got so many!”
“Then you can give them back.”
“Ah…”
Before we could eat any of the cookies we had received, our smiling mother appeared and caught us. We each took only one and returned the rest. Still, the cookies tasted better than expected. Watching Lene munch on hers with a bright grin was so adorable that I split my own in half and gave her part of it.
I didn’t know the details, but her brightly smiling face told me things were clearly flowing differently from the original story. A small sense of satisfaction bloomed inside me.
“René. Can’t you give that piece to me too?”
“…No, that’s not happening.”
When she eyed the remaining half, I drew the line. Maybe it was because my body was young again, but sweet cookies felt quite precious to me now. Afraid she might try to take it, I quickly popped the piece I was holding into my mouth.