Chapter 45: Fantasy in the middle of the night

“Come this way.”
“Woof!”
“Shake!”
“Woof!”
“Now, say ‘Ah~.’”
“Goo-goo~”

And just like that, for the brief five minutes until the Ferris wheel returned to the ground, I spent the time not as a human but as a dog.

What the hell am I doing right now? My brain is screaming at me to stop acting like an idiot, but my loosened heart holds tightly onto my body and refuses to let go.

Emotion over logic, instinct over reason.

As time passed while relying on this unfamiliar sensation, before I knew it, I was lying on my back, resting my head on her lap.

Old enough to know better, and yet—what the hell am I doing? Just imagining how I must look right now sends chills up my arms.

But what’s even more chilling is the fact that I, who suddenly became a dog, am actually enjoying this situation.

Barking happily with an invisible leash tied around my neck. Dogs are simple—it’s nice. I don’t have to think anymore.

Of course, I can’t keep barking like a real dog forever, so I force my wandering mind back into place.

“Lie down!”
“Woof—no, wait. What the hell did you do to me?”
“Huh? I didn’t do anything, though?”
“Right. I’m just an idiot. I know that too.”

I try to harden my expression, but all that comes back is her usual calm face.

If only she’d hypnotized me or something, maybe I wouldn’t be this embarrassed. Somehow, it’s just sad.

“Anyway, you’re feeling better now, right?”
“…I hate to admit it, but yeah.”
“Then that’s good.”

She gently pats the crown of my head. I’m not a kid or a dog, and yet, under that motherly touch, I unknowingly let her stroke my hair.

Her fingers brush between my strands, tracing down to gently rub my earlobe. It’s cool, but strangely, it feels hot.

I want to see Izana’s face, but my cheeks are burning so much that I can’t lift my head.

If I were a third party looking at me now, I’d probably think I looked pathetic.

I don’t even need a mirror to know that. A girl who looks a little sick. And the truth is, it’s my head that’s sick.

The Ferris wheel door opens with a clatter, and the staff urges us to get off.

I grab Izana’s hand, and she gently laces her fingers with mine.

The warmth intensifies, and I can’t bring myself to let go—I just flounder in confusion.

Why did I hold her hand? My hand reached out on its own.

Naturally. As if it had always belonged there.

“…Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”

From morning to evening, the day passed in a blur, but now that it’s time to say goodbye, I feel strangely unsettled.

Like something lingers, like something is missing. One thing’s for sure: right now, I can’t think of anyone else’s face but hers.

My tangled mind felt a little more at ease.

“Ah… you’re back. Are you feeling okay?”

Humans in agony are beautiful.

Why are they beautiful? Because they suffer.

But those who have let go of suffering are even more beautiful.

Form is emptiness, emptiness is form—though that’s probably not what that phrase originally meant.

The final destination of the enlightened. A clumsy proclamation of wisdom, pretending to be a Buddhist awakening.

Back home, I lie on the sofa with nothing to do.

A small girl looks at me with a worried face—so small she could be mistaken for an elementary schooler.

Her pale complexion, which has worsened recently, makes my chest tighten. I’ve been thinking about what to say when I get home, but now that I see her face, I can only hesitate.

And so, meaningless time flows by, the ticking second hand persistently reminding me of its presence.

“…I’m fine.”

A nasty metallic voice escapes from my throat. Was this always how I sounded? A strange feeling. More than that, a faint fear.

“Dinner—”
“I’ll make it.”
“Huh?”
“I said, I’ll do it.”

I’m not particularly good at cooking, but I step up, wanting to do something for her.

That’s fine, but couldn’t I have said it more gently? Lately, I haven’t spoken much at all.

Talking to anyone feels foreign now. No, it’s not just that—it’s because of who she is.

I know very well how terribly I’ve treated the person who loves me—and whom I love.

“Will you be okay…?”
“I’m not that bad at cooking.”
“Ah, no, that’s not what I meant—!”
“I know.”

I messily ruffle the nervous girl’s hair and head to the kitchen.

I take out some bacon, a loaf of bread, and two eggs from the fridge, then cook the bacon in the pan already sitting on the burner.

The heat rises gently, and the pork fat sizzles. I place the bread and eggs in the pan together—sizzle—a pleasant sound.

At the same time, I make coffee.

Crispy bacon, nicely cooked sunny-side-up eggs, and toast grilled only on one side, as I like it.

Even though it’s dinner, I prepare a classic New York-style breakfast, serving it in big plates—one for her, one for me.

When I return to the table, carrying the plates in both hands, I see her—my sister—leaning against the chair with a dazed look.

“Sis?”
“Oh, you’re eating too, Shia?”
“Yeah.”
“I see…”

Watching her smile softly fills my heart with joy, but guilt pokes at my side.

As if asking, Did you really forget me? No way. Of course not. She couldn’t possibly forget.

There are so many things I want to say—like stars scattered across the night sky—but when dinner begins, the conversation dies.

My sister moves her small mouth diligently, and I idly poke at my lukewarm bacon while watching her.

It’s not that it tastes bad, but I’ve already eaten so many snacks with Izana that I’m not really hungry.

I just want to enjoy this time with my sister, so I force myself to move my fork.

A peaceful scene I haven’t experienced in a while—something that used to be so familiar now feels oddly foreign.

Like someone’s playing a prank on my heart, tickling it gently, while the surface remains perfectly calm.

A dissonance of happiness and melancholy.

After the meal, I get up to clear the plates, but my sister insists on doing the dishes.

Unable to resist, I brush my teeth and head to my room. Even though I had coffee, my eyes keep wanting to close.

Well, I did run around nonstop all day.

I throw myself onto the soft bed and stare blankly at the plain ceiling. I fall into the whiteness, into the bulging shadows.

Is this what it would feel like to swim in a milky river? As I float in that feeling for a while, a sudden creak comes from the door.

“Can I sit next to you?”
“I don’t care.”

My eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, but it’s obvious who came in.

A faint weight settles near my head. Honestly, I’d rather look at her cute face than the boring ceiling, but for some reason, meeting her eyes feels awkward.

I wonder if she’s looking down at me right now.

Her tiny, fern-like hand gently brushes my bangs.

If only a breeze were softly blowing, it would be perfect.

I feel disgusted at myself for settling into this comfort, as if I’ve forgotten how to push it away.

Still, I have to say it.

“…I’m sorry.”
“Mhm, I’m more sorry. You must’ve been going through a lot, and I couldn’t even take care of you properly.”
“Still, I’m sorry.”

I turn and wrap my arms around her small frame. Her warmth surrounds me. Her heartbeat thumps softly.

It finally feels like I’m home. I used to come here after school every day.

Why did I stop? A long journey, a winding winter road—I’ve finally made it back. I wonder… do I even deserve to be happy?

“Can we… stay like this a bit longer?”
“Yeah…”

The warmth fills the emptiness in my heart. I really do need my sister.

I distanced myself because I didn’t want to lose her. If she disappeared—no, I cut off that thought before it could finish.

“I love you… sis.”
“…I love you too, Shia.”

I love my sister. But I don’t know if she really loves me back. Even if she doesn’t, I’ll still keep loving her.

In a lifetime, can you meet someone who’d be willing to give their life for you? For me, that person was my sister.

The child who pushed me out of the way and was hit by the truck instead.

Her little body covered in splashes of blood—vivid, colorful. Terrifying for some. Undeniably horrific. But not for me.

All that wasted, meaningless time.

I spent my life as an idiot. But in this world, I decided to live properly—from that moment on.

So my sister is more than just family to me. After recently growing distant from her, I finally realized it again.

“…”
“Sleepy? You can fall asleep like this.”

As I melt into the soft touch of her thighs supporting my head, my eyes quietly close.

Her fading face remains in my blurring vision until the world is swallowed in darkness, and I fall asleep