Author’s note:
This chapter might be more interesting if read alongside Chapter 25 of Volume 1.
I first met her… when I was in fifth year of primary school.
My father suddenly told me that our family would be gaining a new member.
The girl who became my little sister… was incredibly cute.
Her hair was clear and beautiful, her eyes sparkling like jewels.
She was about three years younger than me—and I was captivated at first sight.
She was the daughter of my mother’s younger sister.
In other words, my cousin.
I’d heard I had a cousin, but that was the first time we’d ever met.
Apparently, her parents had died in an accident.
That was why she had been taken in by our family.
I felt sorry for her.
I decided I had to be kind to her, as her older brother.
When she first came to live with us… she was a little spoiled for her age.
She was only in second year of primary school, but she said whatever came to mind—honest, almost too honest.
It seemed my aunt and uncle had raised her quite indulgently.
But… she wasn’t a bad child.
She had proper manners.
She was kind and caring, often looking after my younger sister (her cousin) and playing with her.
More than anything, her innocent, cheerful smile was wonderful.
However…
My mother didn’t like her.
She treated her harshly at every opportunity.
She would pounce on even the smallest mistakes, scolding and yelling at her.
Whenever she saw her, she’d sneer—calling her useless, poorly raised.
Sometimes, she even insulted her dead parents.
And if she showed the slightest resistance—
She’d slap her.
Hit her with a duster or a belt.
Sometimes lock her in a cupboard.
This so-called “discipline” always happened when my father wasn’t home.
He was a man who lived for work.
Work, and the reputation of himself and the family—that was all he seemed to care about.
If he had seen it, he might have tried to stop it.
Not out of love—but because it would damage appearances.
At least, that’s what I believed.
In reality, he was rarely home, and barely involved in raising us.
So her “discipline” continued, unchallenged.
Before long, she stopped smiling.
Her beautiful eyes grew clouded.
She began constantly watching others, trying to gauge their moods.
I wanted to save her.
So I pleaded with my mother again and again not to treat her so harshly.
When she was being “disciplined,” I sometimes stepped in.
Perhaps because of that, by the time I reached my first year of middle school—
I no longer saw her being punished.
I thought I had protected her.
…But I was wrong.
One day, by accident, I caught a glimpse of her skin.
I apologised immediately.
But in that moment, I saw it.
Bruises—unnatural marks—on her pale skin.
It was simple.
The reason I stopped seeing her being “disciplined” was because I had started staying late at school for club activities.
It was happening where I couldn’t see.
My words hadn’t reached my mother.
I was powerless.
So… as a last resort, I turned to my father.
I didn’t like him.
We barely interacted, and he had no interest in parenting.
Besides—
I wanted to save her myself.
I didn’t want to rely on him.
But when I told him what was happening—
He was shocked.
Apparently, he genuinely believed everything was fine.
The next day, he came home early and spoke with my mother.
I remember her hysterical shouting, and his cold replies.
Even my mother couldn’t ignore him completely.
For a while, things quieted down.
But it didn’t last.
One winter day, I came home early from club activities—
And found her sitting in the garden, wearing only her underclothes.
She was trembling from the cold.
I think I said something like, Are you alright? Did Mum do this again?
She looked at me—
With eyes so cold it sent a chill down my spine.
“Please leave me alone.”
That was all she said.
I could only retreat into the house.
Later, my younger sister told me what had happened.
It had been the usual—a trivial mistake.
By then, she had started helping with housework, and something had gone wrong.
But that time, my mother’s anger had been… abnormal.
Or rather, the mistake had just been an excuse.
She had been angry about something else.
My sister, frightened, had hidden in her room.
So she didn’t know exactly what had been said.
But she heard words like—
Liar. Slut. Bitch. Whore.
I didn’t understand.
Why my mother treated her that way in the first place—
Or what she could possibly have done to deserve such words.
After that, I tried to help her again and again.
But nothing improved.
If anything, it got worse.
Time passed.
She entered middle school.
I entered high school.
Somehow, she began avoiding me.
And I, feeling powerless, couldn’t talk to her properly anymore.
By then, she was doing most of the housework.
I asked if it was hard—if she hated it.
She simply said she did it because she wanted to.
The “discipline” also became less frequent.
By middle school, she had grown physically.
She had always been athletic.
Perhaps my mother, subconsciously, feared retaliation.
Though the insults never stopped.
It wasn’t that my mother had changed.
But the violence decreased.
My father remained distant.
She and my younger sister seemed to get along well enough.
Everything was the same.
Or slightly better.
And yet—
Only the distance between her and me had grown.
I didn’t want to be at home anymore.
So I applied to a distant university and moved out.
I told myself she didn’t need me anymore.
And ran away.
If I had known—
If I had known she was being forced into an arranged meeting—
I never would have left.
I heard about her engagement near the start of summer break at university.
Her fiancé was the eldest son of the Takasegawa main family.
Takasegawa.
I’d heard that name before.
An old, prestigious family.
Since the Meiji Restoration, they had risen alongside the Tachibana family, leading Japan’s political and financial world.
They had played key roles behind the scenes during the war’s end, post-war reconstruction, and economic growth.
Even now, they held immense influence domestically and internationally.
They had connections with politicians, bureaucrats—even foreign powers, especially in America.
Many politicians were related to them by blood.
They also made substantial political donations.
And—
They were an important business partner of my father.
It was obviously a political marriage.
In fact, after the engagement, my father received a massive loan from the Takasegawa family and their associates.
During summer break, after finishing my commitments, I rushed home.
And then—
By chance—
I ran into her.
She was with a boy.
As I approached, I caught a faint scent of chlorine.
She carried a swimming bag.
Her skin was slightly sunburnt.
She hated showing her skin—
So seeing her go to a pool with a boy shocked me.
Still…
As her “brother,” I should’ve been happy she had someone to spend time with.
…And yet, I felt irritated.
Something about it bothered me.
The boy had refined features, a well-bred appearance.
Deep blue eyes.
He seemed mature despite his age.
At first, I assumed he was just a friend.
So when I learned he was her fiancé, I was shocked.
He was too young.
I’d imagined someone older—an adult.
But when I spoke to him, he was calm, composed, mature.
He didn’t seem like a bad person.
In fact, he seemed decent.
Maybe—
If I explained things, he might reconsider.
Maybe he would help save her.
So I asked him.
Did he really intend to marry her?
He replied, almost exasperated—
“Who gets engaged without intending to marry?”
There was something mocking in his tone.
It irritated me.
Then he tugged at her sleeve—
As if forcing her—
“Right?”
She whispered something to him.
And then—
They both said they intended to marry.
That they were confident they could make it work.
It was absurd.
Fifteen-year-old students—
Speaking so calmly, so naturally—
About marrying for their parents’ sake—
It wasn’t normal.
This shouldn’t exist in modern Japan.
So I thought—
She was being forced.
Made to pretend she loved him.
And he—
Had been fooled by her act.
It was natural, after all.
Any boy would be swayed if a girl like her said she loved him.
If I explained everything, he’d understand.
So I told him about her situation.
But he didn’t believe me.
Instead, he asked her.
Of course she’d say she loved him.
She had no choice.
I tried to explain that—
But it wouldn’t get through.
When he finally seemed to understand—
He asked, as if puzzled—
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
Then—
I noticed the watch on his left wrist.
A famous Swiss brand.
Worth at least a million yen.
A luxury watch.
Ah.
So this was Takasegawa.
To him, she was no different from that watch.
Something bought with money.
I was certain of it.
Despite his decent appearance—
He was just another member of the family that had bought her.
No different from my father.
A man capable of something like human trafficking.
So I told him clearly—
Don’t force her into marriage.
If you love her, if you don’t want her to be unhappy—
Break off the engagement.
I placed my hopes on whatever shred of conscience he might have.
But he calmly replied—
“If I didn’t ‘buy’ her, someone else would.”
He didn’t even deny it.
As if saying—
It’s your fault for being poor.
Then he mocked me—
As if asking what someone like me could possibly do.
I tried to argue.
But no words came.
Before I knew it—
He had gotten into a taxi and left.
After he was gone, I approached her.
Are you alright?
Did you go to the pool?
Did he do anything to you?
Are you being threatened?
Blackmailed?
I’ll be on your side—
I said everything I could.
And she replied—
“Please stop.”
“You can’t do anything, so don’t mess up my life.”
“You’re just being a nuisance.”
She shouted that—
In tears—
And ran inside.
She was right.
I still had no power.
But I couldn’t ignore her tears.
Someday—
I had to save her.
I swore it.
Some time later, he invited her to a summer festival.
I wanted to stop her.
But she went anyway.
She didn’t come home for a long time.
She called instead.
Apparently, the trains had stopped—
So she stayed at his house.
That girl—
Stayed at a boy’s house.
For some reason—
I felt sick.
As I stood there, pale—
My younger sister shrugged.
“Arisa-san goes to his place every Saturday, you know. She’s basically like a housewife already.”
I hadn’t known.
Maybe—
She had already fallen into his hands.
Maybe he was forcing her—
Doing terrible things to her—
The thought made my chest tighten.
She came home safely the next day.
I asked if anything had happened.
She coldly replied—
“It’s none of your business.”
She didn’t want to talk about it.
Her attitude told me enough.
I couldn’t stop worrying.
So I stayed home until the end of September.
And then I realised—
My mother hardly scolded her anymore.
Normally, if she came home late, she’d be yelling.
But now, just a few sarcastic remarks.
…Even my mother feared the Takasegawa family.
That was how powerful they were.
There was no way I could win against them alone.
That was what I thought.
