[They really don’t look alike at all… Whether it’s their facial features or their aura, it’s as if they come from two entirely different worlds.]
Rika Kawasaki’s sharp gray-brown eyes didn’t shy away in the slightest as she examined the supposed younger sister in front of her—Chinatsu Ayase.
From her lowered brows to her slightly pale lips, she scrutinized every detail, finally reaffirming her conclusion in her heart.
“Si…Sister…”
The black-haired girl sitting beside her, upon noticing Rika Kawasaki’s undisguised gaze and meeting her eyes, shrank her slender shoulders ever so slightly like a frightened little animal.
She timidly, almost inaudibly, called out this unfamiliar title.
The tone sounded fragile and practiced, carrying a deliberately pitiful air that tugged at the heartstrings, as if desperately seeking someone’s protection and attention.
On the surface, Chinatsu Ayase seemed meek and reserved, her posture cautious—like a child who had long lacked affection, slightly self-abased, and desperately insecure.
It was enough to stir a strong urge to protect her.
Yet, with her keen powers of observation, Rika Kawasaki still managed to catch a subtle incongruity beneath this seemingly flawless display of timidity.
She clearly noticed that when the girl used that pitiable tone, her deep, pitch-black eyes—like ancient wells—remained cold and lifeless, devoid of any genuine emotion to match her expression and voice.
Those eyes were utterly empty, as if she wore a carefully crafted mask.
[Heh… So she really is just putting on an act, saying one thing on the surface and hiding another beneath. I guess that old saying holds true after all: birds of a feather flock together. How could she really be a pure and naive little rabbit?]
Having seen through the act of her sister, whom she was meeting formally for the first time, Rika Kawasaki let out a cold sneer in her heart.
On the surface, her expression remained nonchalant, though a glimmer of understanding and an even deeper estrangement flickered in her eyes.
Sitting at the head of the table, their mother had been watching the first interaction between her two daughters with great attention.
Seeing Chinatsu Ayase timidly address her as Sister and Rika Kawasaki not react with hostility, her stern face seemed to soften ever so slightly.
She was clearly pleased to witness such apparent harmony between them—what might be called “friendly elder, respectful younger.”
When she spoke again, her usual strict tone now held a rare hint of emotion and warmth:
“Mm, you two sisters really should work on your relationship from now on. Spend more time together and get to know each other. After all, when you grow up and truly step into society, you’ll understand—sisters who share the same bloodline are often the only ones you can truly trust, the ones you can rely on and support.”
Her words carried the tone of someone who had experienced life, trying to instill the importance of family unity.
Though Rika Kawasaki found this “blood ties are the only thing you can trust” rhetoric laughable and ironic—especially given their fractured family, each harboring their own agendas—she knew there was no point in arguing right now.
She showed none of this ridicule on her face, so as not to provoke unnecessary disputes or another lengthy lecture.
She simply continued eating in silence.
“Mm. Now that you’re home, let’s eat.”
She lifted her eyes, her tone so flat it revealed no emotion, as if merely stating a fact, and addressed the sister she had preliminarily judged to be “a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Without another glance at the girl, she lowered her head again and picked up the heavy silver knife and fork at hand with a fluid, casual yet efficient motion, beginning to cut into and enjoy the steaming, exquisite dish that the Caretaker had just served.
Chinatsu Ayase, beside her, seemed to be “moved” by the seemingly accepting and somewhat caring words from her distant Sister.
Her slender fingers tightened around her napkin, her voice slightly choked as she murmured a soft “Mm” in reply, as if a neglected child had finally received a trace of warmth.
“Sigh, Chinatsu,”
The middle-aged woman at the head of the table—their Mother—took in this fleeting exchange between her two daughters.
While eating, she turned her gaze to the seemingly emotional Chinatsu Ayase, her voice blending reassurance and instruction:
“Let the unhappy things in the past stay in the past. Don’t dwell on them anymore. I’ve already arranged everything regarding your admission to The University of Tokyo. All the paperwork is in order. In a few days, you can go handle the registration.”
“Thank you, Mother…”
Chinatsu Ayase immediately lifted her head, her voice gentle yet clear.
“It wasn’t a particularly troublesome matter,”
The middle-aged woman waved her hand dismissively, her tone light, though her eyes betrayed a hint of satisfaction with Chinatsu Ayase.
“After all, with your excellent grades and rich extracurricular experience at High School in America, applying to The University of Tokyo was never going to be difficult.”
“Chinatsu, you must continue to work hard and not waste your talent or previous efforts.”
“Yes, Mother. I certainly will.”
Chinatsu Ayase responded obediently, bowing her head again with a humble, receptive demeanor.
……
At the subtly tense dinner table, mother and daughter exchanged words about academics and the future, creating an outwardly harmonious and even “warm” atmosphere.
Rika Kawasaki, on the other hand, was like an outsider excluded from the conversation, showing no interest in their topics.
She focused solely on her meal, her movements betraying a barely noticeable impatience, as if wishing only to end this ritualistic family dinner as soon as possible.
Her Father, meanwhile, sat in silence with an indifferent expression, almost never participating in the conversation.
Occasionally, he would raise his goblet for a sip of amber liquor, his deep gaze unreadable as he pondered some distant thought.
While speaking with Chinatsu Ayase, Rika Kawasaki’s Mother watched her two very different daughters out of the corner of her eye, unconsciously drawing comparisons.
She was clearly quite pleased with her younger daughter, Chinatsu Ayase—not only for her delicate appearance, but also for her calm and steady demeanor, so unlike the restlessness common to youth.
Her academic record was excellent, demonstrating a sharp mind and real potential.
Most importantly, she was obedient, perceptive, and knew how to read the room—the very picture of a “good daughter” in her Mother’s eyes.
By contrast, Rika Kawasaki, sitting opposite, sported glaringly short golden hair that, in her view, was anything but proper.
She hung out daily with questionable girls, riding motorcycles around town, her studies in shambles, a troublemaker whose antics had nearly driven her image-conscious Mother to the brink more than once.
Compared side by side, the difference was clear.
[If only… If only Chinatsu hadn’t been born a Bastard Daughter, if not for that stain on her name… How perfect she would have been—almost the ideal choice for Inheritance.]
At the head of the table, the middle-aged woman couldn’t help but be swept by a sense of deep regret and calculation.