My Sister Can't Possibly Be This Rich!

My sister couldn't possibly be this loaded! Our sibling dynamic was a textbook case of the classic "A-beats-B" hierarchy. Sure, like any pair of siblings, we bickered and sniped at each other like mortal enemies, but it was always me who ended up on the losing side, grudgingly admitting defeat. That was because my sister's words were always spot-on, and I was basically the rebellious punk pushing back against her.

The perfect daughter who aced her studies and had everyone whispering about how pretty she was, versus the slacker brother who couldn't be bothered with school and spent his days chasing pointless wins in the zero-and-one digital realm. If an outsider looked at us, whose side would they take? Normally, parents in that situation would compare their star kid to the dud, but ours never did. They had zero ambition when it came to us kids. Or maybe they'd already written me off? Stepping in as the "bad cop" in our parents' stead, my sister played the enforcer role, and I rebelled against her iron-fisted ways.

But that only lasted through middle school. Once high school hit and my brain finally started catching up, I began to understand her nagging a little. Not that I stopped rebelling, mind you... I never claimed to have wised up completely.

Despite all that, they say hate is just love in disguise, right? We were tight like that—always looking out for each other, or so I thought. And then she pulls this betrayal? I'd just been forced into a humiliating identity check and survival report by my own flesh and blood.

For some reason I couldn't fathom, my sister's fame was drawing too much attention, so after wrapping up the paperwork, a staffer escorted us through a restricted access hallway reserved for VIPs and out of the Seoul Hunter Management Bureau. Twenty minutes of hard driving later, we pulled up to a hotel that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left my jaw on the floor even before we stepped inside. But when we entered the room? Yeah, my mouth hit a whole new low.

Marble tiles gleamed under warm, ambient lighting that reflected softly off every surface. The chandelier hanging from the insanely high ceiling looked taller than me—and I'm pushing 170 cm. The space had to be at least 3,000 square feet, complete with an indoor pool overlooking the outdoors. I'd seen The Great Gatsby once... was this how it felt to get invited to that mansion?

"I-kwon, what're you doing? Come on in."

My sister was already inside, flashing me a grin that—minus the wine glass—looked straight out of that movie scene.

"I had a hunch, but this level?"

"This is just a freebie from my guild's sponsor. I'd only heard about it—first time actually staying here."

"......This is free?"

I didn't know the full story, but from the clerk who'd counseled me and the other staffer who'd shown up midway, my sister seemed to be a pretty big deal in the hunter world. I'd figured hunters raked in top dollar here, but just how high up was she? Asking outright would probably get me a vague dodge, so I'd Google her later.

♪♬♪♬♪♬— A phone rang out from somewhere. It was my sister's. She glanced at the screen, winced like she had a migraine coming on, let out a deep sigh, and turned to me.

"Gonna take this call. Why don't you shower in the meantime? We'll talk after."

I nodded, and she headed out to the terrace clutching her smartphone. I skipped the bathroom and made a beeline for what looked like the living room, firing up the TV instead. A few channels were pretty much like back home, but most of the news and shows revolved around hunters and the "otherworld." I'd tuned in hoping for intel, but it was useless...

Vlogs from random hunters, cheating scandals—nothing but garbage. Suite like this had to have a computer stashed somewhere, right? I debated hunting one down but gave up and headed to the bathroom. Even the hallway to it felt like a runway, stretching out forever, with mirrors lining the walls. My reflection stared back, screaming "doesn't belong" in my borrowed getup: short light rose-pink dolphin pants and a black hoodie that obviously wasn't mine.

Should've returned these on the rush over... No contact info, hadn't even exchanged names properly, so no way to give them back now. Silver lining: they weren't expensive. If we crossed paths again, I'd treat them to a meal at least.

Shlrk— I peeled off the hoodie, tossed it in a basket in the corner, and started stripping systematically. As I reached for the one thing I'd kept from Triia—my plain white underwear—it hit me.

Oh crap, no change of clothes.