My sister is quite a fool.
She really is foolish.
Foolish enough not to see her own heart’s desires, always believing that things will turn out as she imagines—full of hope, full of fighting spirit.
But do things really turn out as she imagines?
Do they ever unfold as one expects?
Never.
She thought she would never like any boy, thought she could be strong enough to live on her own without intersecting with anyone, without any conflicts.
But often, things don’t go as one wishes.
That’s why she t that boy nad Sam, that’s why such unexpected events occurred.
If it weren’t for ... it would probably be terrible, right?
But there’s no reason not to admire my sister’s courage and strength, after all, it’s because of her that I have a chance to live.
Perhaps it’s also because of that she found a reason not to jump off the high building with our mother.
The past flows away like water, quietly passing, through valleys, through jungles, then off to the vast sea, becoming an insignificant part of life.
Shouldn’t people seize the mont?
So when will my sister realize that so things absolutely cannot be surrendered?
Even if she pretends not to care, she can’t let them slip through her fingers, can she?
People are indeed strange, clearly caring about soone, clearly seeing them as soone special, yet always acting indifferent, not just deceiving everyone else but even herself.
Then there’s nothing that can be done.
As her younger sister, I have the duty to hold onto all of this.
After all, my sister is stubborn, unwilling to admit she cares, appearing proactive in certain actions, firm in her goals. In reality, she’s passively terrifying, only able to wait for soone else to make a firm choice for her.
How can such a sister hold onto so-called happiness?
How can she truly be happy?
So... there’s nothing that can be done. Find more chapters on .Côm
My sister has helped so much, there are so things I can handle myself.
But what is the outco now?
Sophia sat in her room, closing her eyes, many thoughts running through her mind.
...
"Why did you do that?"
When Sophie reopened her eyes, that was the first question that burst forth.
She was fully aware of what had happened, and she had monts when she wanted to stop it.
But unexpectedly, in that mont, even she couldn’t take the initiative, unable to regain control of her body.
After witnessing all that absurdity and returning to her room, regaining control, Sophie was eager to ask.
She hadn’t expected her sister to act this way, nor had she imagined that beneath her seemingly innocent soul, there could be such a dark side.
Then, in the next mont, Sophie’s expression turned into a smile.
"What do you an why? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sister."
Then, her brow furrowed again, the girl’s facial expressions changing so rapidly it was almost like magic, dazzling to behold.
"You know exactly what I’m talking about... You have such capabilities, yet you didn’t let know, and... how could you do this? It’s really..."
Sophie hadn’t imagined her sister would even control Sam, to the extent of making him ejaculate directly into Angel’s mouth and on her face... It seed that just thinking about that scene made her cheeks involuntarily heat up.
"Don’t you want to reclaim the humiliation from before? Don’t you really hate that girl, or... are you feeling sorry for Sam?"
Sophia smiled joyfully, seemingly very satisfied with everything she had orchestrated.
Thinking of such a thod, she was simply a genius!
Sophie, however, was not amused. "But have you considered what will happen next? I still have to face Angel’s wrath, and how are we supposed to end this?"
"Maybe Sam will be the one to wrap things up..."
"So you think that justifies it?"
"Why can’t I? It’s because of him that Angel targeted us, that she did those things to us. So isn’t it only fair that he bears so responsibility? It’s not us who should feel guilty, but this unjust world. Sister, being too soft-hearted gets you nothing. I’ll help you."
"Help with what?" Sophie felt a sense of foreboding.
She realized that her young sister, whom she had always protected and trusted, might not think the sa way as her. The previous scene seed more like her young sister protecting herself...
But the thods Sophia employed did not quite satisfy Sophie.
"Help sister get everything that belongs to her, instead of passively handing over what she wants most to soone else."
Sophie instantly understood, her brow furrowed, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Don’t do anything weird... I don’t want anything."
"Not wanting anything because you’ve never gotten what you wanted. Sister, let’s be honest, everyone has desires and ambitions. When you see sothing you like, you want to hold it in your hand, but many people say they don’t want anything because they’re afraid they can’t get what they like."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." It seed it was Sophie’s turn to play dumb.
But the next mont, her face broke into a radiant smile, it’s Sophia’s voice.
"Let put it more directly. Sister... do you really want to see Sam completely belong to Angel? Why... can’t he belong to you?"
"Who said I wanted him!"
"Constantly denying it isn’t good, and now you know my capabilities, so it’s not difficult for to do all this. Sister... you need to be honest with yourself."
"I don’t need to face anything because I know exactly what I want. Now, go rest, and do not co out for a while."
"Eh? What? Sister, are you really going to do this? I have a complete plan, won’t you even listen?"
"No need, I don’t need it. All I want is for us to be well and safe. That’s the greatest happiness. I won’t think about those things."
After that.
There were no more sounds of conversation.
Only Sophie sitting on the sofa, blankly staring at the unturned TV.
The silent air in the room seed almost to solidify everything.
She hesitated for a mont, took out her phone, and saw no new ssages.
She understood what her current emotion was called: Worry.
She was sowhat worried about the one person left behind, about what situation Sam was in at this very mont.
How to face Angel’s wrath.
Whether Angel’s humiliation would be vented entirely on Sam, or whether it would soon shift to her.
Could he really handle it?
Or was he, like her, actually more powerless?
What did his last expression an when she left?
Sophie hugged her knees a little tighter.
She didn’t know what she was thinking, but perhaps the biggest question in her mind was.
Why did Sam’s final look make her feel so sad?
She bowed her head and placed her hand over her chest, right where her heart was beating...
===
Itch.
An unbearable itch.
Sam opened his eyes.
The darkness before him was dispelled, replaced by a sowhat glaring brightness.
The intensity of the light even made Sam think he had arrived in heaven.
Surely not? He had indeed passed out from pain at that mont, after all, it was his first ti stabbing a knife into his thigh.
It really hurt.
Sam hadn’t spared himself, and the effect of the blood spraying was indeed satisfying to him, so satisfying that the pain threshold exceeded expectations, and his brain, in order to protect itself, or perhaps due to a sudden loss of too much blood, caused him to faint.
However, before passing out, the decision to do this wasn’t made rashly by Sam.
He trusted his self-healing ability; this degree of injury wouldn’t be fatal.
Unless, after he fainted, Angel chose to kill him.
But that was absolutely impossible.
She was indeed dangerous, but that was towards others, not Sam. Given the situation at the ti, she had no reason to kill Sam.
Soon Sam confird that this was not heaven, it was just the lamp above his head.
Now, opening his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar room, judging by the decor... it must still be Angel’s house.
It was still so luxurious, he slled a hint of antiseptic, and lifting his arm, he could see the IV drip, not knowing what it was... perhaps an antibiotic.
And his thigh, now wrapped in bandages, seed to have been hastily treated.
There was so blood seeping through, but it wasn’t spreading further.
What was this itch all about?
With the room temporarily empty, Sam sat up and unwrapped the bandage.
He discovered that the wound had already healed.
It turned out the itch was from the skin healing.
Now the skin was tender and smooth, almost as delicate as that of a newborn baby.
Indeed, his healing ability was without any issues.
As Sam pondered who had tended to his wounds and where Angel had gone off to, a creaking sound broke his train of thought.
Soone pushed the door open.
Angel walked in, having changed into a fresh set of clothes, and it seed she had also taken a bath; droplets of water glistened in her loosely draped hair, catching the light.
She wore a black long-sleeve outfit that resembled a nightgown yet covered her entire body, leaving only her legs exposed. The sleeves were wide, reminiscent of those from the Renaissance period, lending her a unique charm.
"Awake?" Angel entered, her expression slightly cold, her voice even more so.
Sam smiled at her. "I thought I’d wake up to find you slumped by the bed, showing signs of a night spent in toil."
Angel sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed intently on Sam.
"You should be grateful that I didn’t tie you to a cross with a pile of kindling at your feet ready to be lit."
"Hmm? So, am I Jesus now?"
"No, but I can arrange a eting for you with him."
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