The Person I Loved Asked Me to Die in My Younger Sister’s Place

——A piece of memory that she should have forgotten a long time ago suddenly surfaced from the depths.

When was it? It was probably short after she met Bright, when she was around twelve years old.

Wisteria’s barrette, which was very precious to her at the time, had been broken by a child of the same age. The other child didn’t apologize.

Even if one excluded the fact that he was at an age where he didn’t know better, he was a boy who took advantage of the fact that he was a child of a family of high rank and behaved violently.

He laughed at Wisteria, who stood there speechless, and left, saying, “You’re just an adopted kid.”

It was a time when Wisteria was aware that she had been taken in, and she was at her most reserved and self-conscious about her adoptive parents–so it was terribly painful for her.

It was as if being adopted was an unbearable sin. It was as if it was inevitable that her barette would be stolen.

In retrospect, she might have seemed like a foreign object to other children her age. They probably thought of her as someone they could make fun of, someone they could look down on.

Rosalie, who was younger than Wisteria, was crying without understanding why. Wisteria was holding back her tears because her sister was crying next to her.

Her adoptive parents were surprised to find them like that and asked what was going on. Wisteria’s voice trembled as she explained, and Countess Lafferty hugged her.

——It’s okay. You must be feeling so sad, I’ll buy you another lovely barrette.

Her words were gentle and compassionate, as always.

Wisteria choked up and just trembled.

(You’re wrong, Mother…)

She wasn’t trembling this much because it was broken. She wasn’t in so much pain that she couldn’t speak because she lost something. 

Bright, who visited later, noticed Wisteria’s downcast face and asked her what happened again. When Wisteria explained the situation, her head still hanging down, Bright’s golden eyes shone like flames.

“You can’t allow this to happen. There is nothing wrong with you.”

The gentle and mild-mannered Countess Lafferty calmed Bright down. The other boy was the son of a nobleman of higher rank than the Count of Vatue, and someone who even Bright couldn’t afford to aggravate.

She told him that he was still a child, and that she would buy something else for Wisteria to make up for it.

But Bright shook his head, unusually stubborn for a boy who had always been so cheerful and vivacious.

“That wouldn’t save Wisteria’s wounded heart or honor. I’m angry about something that cannot be replaced.”

Like her, he didn’t want conflict. But there comes a time when one must never retreat, and that time was now.

——When Wisteria heard that, she saw a bright light in Bright’s eyes.

He understood the significance of Wisteria’s sadness exactly.

Bright told Countess Lafferty decisively, his eyes burning like the setting sun, and left.

It was only a few days later that the boy who broke her barrette came to apologize with red eyes.

Even though Bright used his status as the Duke of Reuning’s son as a weapon–she later found out that he had quite the exchange with the other boy.

When Bright resolved himself like this, he always did it. He would never go back on it.

Wisteria learned that his golden eyes sometimes became an untouchable fire and gushed out.

She was drawn to that strength.

——When he asked her to take Rosalie’s place, she saw that same fire in his eyes.

That’s why.

(…Lloyd is the same.)

He, who claimed to be Bright’s son, had the same intensity in his eyes. Rather, it was more bare and sharper than Bright’s.

A golden flame, intense and vivid, and would never die——.

“Irene, wake up.”

The voice echoing in her head brought Wisteria back to consciousness.

Dragged along by slumber, she blinked several times and woke up. She shook her head lightly.

“That child is about to wake up.”

Salutis said sullenly.

Wisteria let out a long breath, brushed back her messy black hair, and got up from her chair.

She had used her <Transfer> magic to bring herself and Lloyd to her home in the large tree, but partly this was the first time she was carrying two people and partly because of the unexpected battle, she was more tired than she thought.

The room next to her bedroom had been used as a storage room, but she recalled that she had put Lloyd down there for the time being and then sat down on a chair in the living room. It seemed that she had lost consciousness immediately after.

With Salutis in hand, she entered the room where she had set down Lloyd.

In a corner of the room, there was a messy pile of tools that had been pushed away, and in the center of the room, a silver-haired young man was lying on several layers of mattresses.

Wisteria looked down at his sleeping face.

His hair, spread out on the mattress, was like polished silverware.

Dignified silver eyebrows. Long silver eyelashes that seemed to brush the light from the edges of his closed eyelids.

The distinctly rugged nose bridge, and even the shape of his lips, which exhaled quiet breaths, were beautiful. His beauty was breathtaking, but when viewed in this way, his sleeping face looked surprisingly innocent.

(…They look so much alike that it makes me sick.)

She let out a quiet sigh that was neither exasperation nor wonder. No wonder she felt as though Bright had appeared exactly as he was on the day they parted. He was the same in height and body proportions. Or maybe he was a little younger than he was then.

——It was the reason for the strange feeling in her heart, and for no other reason.

Soon, his silver eyelashes quivered and his eyebrows knitted together. His eyelids lifted slowly to reveal golden eyes.

For a brief moment, his eyes wandered aimlessly in the air. Then, as soon as they caught sight of Wisteria, they stopped.

Wisteria also hesitated for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been looked at like this by someone who had just woken up.

“…Good morning?”

Such words came out.

At the same moment, Salutis let out a disgruntled sound, as though he was making fun of her, and the young man reacted more blatantly. He rose like a spring to keep a distance and glared at Wisteria, his face twisted.

His hands searched the floor, seemingly searching for something to use as a weapon.

“This is my home. I hope you won’t act too violently here. The miasma is thinner than it is outside, and, well, it’s safe. So, any pain in your hands and mouth? How’s your body feeling?”

Wisteria asked leisurely, observing the young man.