Brother? What a Joke.

As soon as the Crown Prince left and his royal aura of complications disappeared, I sighed in relief. Finally, I thought, walking toward my room. But then, of course, life wasn't going to let me rest.

"Cecilia, wait!" Tristian's voice called out, and I froze mid-step, glancing back at him with confusion.

He was just standing there, rubbing the back of his neck like a guilty schoolboy. What was his deal now?

"What?" I asked.

Tristian opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He was hesitating, eyes darting everywhere except at me.

This guy… Was he buffering?

"If you don't have anything to say, I'm leaving," I said, already turning on my heel.

This dress was too tight, my head hurt from overthinking, and now my patience was hanging on by a thread.

"Wait!" he called again, stepping closer.

"I… I wanted to apologize."

I stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Apologize? For what?"

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he avoided my gaze, looking like someone about to confess to eating the last slice of cake. "As your elder brother… I failed to protect you."

I blinked at him, not sure if I heard him right. Protect me? From what?

"I… shouldn't have left you in the jungle that day. If I hadn't left, you wouldn't have been late coming out of there. I am really sorry, Cecilia."

Oh. That.

I scoffed, crossing my arms and staring at him. Now it made sense.

This whole "brotherly" act he'd been putting on? It wasn't love—it was guilt. He probably felt like a terrible older brother and was trying to patch things up with his sudden protective streak.

Hahh...

I don't care.

"Don't worry about it," I said, already bored of this conversation. "I'm fine." I turned to leave again.

"Wait!" he called out again. Seriously, this guy was on a roll today.

I turned back, barely hiding my irritation. "What now?"

Tristian stepped closer, his expression determined. "I promise, from now on, I'll protect you. No matter what. I will be on your side, Cecilia. Always"

I stared at him, annoyed beyond belief.

Be on my side?

Protect me?

Was he serious?

Was he joking right now?

Did this guy even know who I really was? 

If he found out I wasn't the real Cecilia—his actual sister—would he still stand here, trying to play Mr. Big Brother? Would his guilt fade, or would he crumble into a puddle of regret? The real Cecilia… she was already dead.

She was gone, and here I was, stuck in her body, pretending to be someone I wasn't.

I wish I could just tell him the truth. But he doesn't even deserve that.

Hahh... I wish i could punch him. 

"I don't need your protection," I said flatly, my tone sharp enough to cut through his fake concern. My words hit like a slap, and I saw his expression falter for a split second. Good.

"I can save myself," I continued, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "I did until now, and I will in the future. I don't need you. So stop with that act."

I know i am rude. And honestly, I didn't even feel bad for being rude. Someone had to slap some sense into him.

Tristian flinched but didn't back down. "I know you're angry with me," he said, his tone trying to be all soft and brotherly. "But I promise, I'll be a good brother this time. I'll—"

"Brother?" I cut him off, a bitter scoff escaping me. Oh, now he wanted to play the family card? "You're calling yourself a brother? Seriously?"

He blinked at me, looking like a clueless puppy. If he had a tail, it'd probably be wagging, thinking his apology would fix everything. But he is wrong. Nothing can bring true ceceilia or fix anything.

I folded my arms, glaring at him. "Where was this 'brotherly' act when I actually needed it, huh? When I needed you the most, you treated me like trash. Like I didn't matter. And now, out of nowhere, you want to play the role of the caring older brother? Is this some kind of joke? If it is, then stop right here, because it's pathetic." 

He opened his mouth, probably to blurt out some half-baked excuse. "I... I made mistakes," he stammered, his voice shaky.

"Mistakes?" I snapped, my eyes narrowing. "You don't get to call abandoning me a 'mistake.' A brother doesn't turn his back when things get hard. A brother doesn't leave someone to fend for themselves and then show up later like some kind of hero."

"Let me make this clear, Tristian," I continued, my voice sharp. "You don't get to call yourself my brother now. You lost that right a long time ago."

He opened his mouth, probably to spout more excuses, but I was done. I turned on my heel, ready to leave him with his guilty conscience.

"Cecilia, please—"

"No," I snapped, glancing over my shoulder. "Save your promises for someone who believes them."

And with that, I walked away, leaving Tristian standing there like the useless "brother" he was. If he thought he could fix years of neglect with a few hollow promises, he was dead wrong.

I'm not Cecilia Von Arlen.

She's dead.

I'm just someone who took over her body, nothing more.

No brother.

No mother.

No father.

Just me. Only me.

As I stormed off toward my room, the soft padding of paws echoed behind me. I didn't need to look back to know it was the blue panther tailing me, its sleek form almost gliding alongside me.

"You should go easy on people," it said, its voice smooth, a mix of calm and sass that made my blood boil.

I scoffed, barely glancing at him. "I never learned how to be easy. That's not my nature."

It chuckled low. "You really have a bad temper, you know."

"My temper," I said, my tone sharp, "is the only thing that kept me alive until now."

And that's the truth. As Eun-Byun Lee, my life was nothing but survival. Clawing my way out of hell, day after day, with nothing but my fists and my anger.

I wanted a family, too, you know.

Like all those normal people. I wanted a dad who would hand me pocket money without grumbling. A mom who'd teach me how to cook kimchi stew, laughing as we messed up the recipe together. A sibling I could tease and bicker with like they do in dramas.

I wanted them too. So much.

I always used to watch from the shadows, crouched in some filthy corner, and see families laughing together. Eating food that smelled so good it made my stomach twist in hunger. They'd smile, their faces lit up with warmth and love, and I'd feel this sharp, ugly thing crawl up my chest.

Jealousy.

On the other hand, there was me. Wounded, dirty, and starving.

All I could do was stare. That's it. I wanted someone to care for me, love me, praise me, ruffle my hair, pull my cheeks, and call me cute.

But I got none of that. None of the warmth, the love, the laughter.

Instead, I was thrown out on a freezing winter night, abandoned by a woman who didn't even glance back at her newborn daughter.

"Easy on people?" I muttered, bitterness dripping from my words like venom. "That's never gonna happen." 

People have never gone easy on me, so why the hell should I go easy on them? This world doesn't run on kindness; it runs on one relationship—Give and Take. 

You give me love, and I'll double it for you. I'll protect you, cherish you, and fight for you. 

But you give me hate and treat me like trash? Then just wait. You'll get to see my cruel side, and trust me, it's not pretty. 

I've been through hell. I've survived the worst. I may look like Cecilia Von Arlen—a pushover, but I'm Eun-Byun Lee. And the only real thing in this world is me... and my temper.

The blue panther beside me growled softly, its presence a silent reminder of the chaos swirling around me. It followed me without a word, its steps quiet and steady as if it had nothing better to do.

We reached the room, and I pushed the door open with more force than necessary, my mind still boiling with everything Tristian had said. But just as I stepped inside, the blue panther suddenly spoke, its voice calm yet oddly pointed.

"I can see."

I froze, my hand on the doorframe, and turned to look at him, my brows knitting together. "What did you see?"

He stared at me, his eyes deep and piercing, a strange mix of sadness and calm etched onto his face. His usually smug aura seemed softer, like he was looking past the surface, into something I didn't even know was there.

"You're hurt," he said simply.

"What?" I blinked, completely thrown off. Confused as hell.

"Your heart," he said, his tone steady but heavy. "It's not just shattered; it's crumbling. Like fine powder, carried away with every breath you take."

I stared at him, utterly baffled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He didn't flinch at my sharp tone, didn't react at all. He just stood there, looking at me like he was peeling back every layer I'd carefully built.

"You need love," he said softly, but his words carried a weight that felt like it could crack the walls around me. "That's when you'll know your real power."

My mouth opened to snap back, but nothing came out. The words died in my throat, stuck in some corner I didn't want to acknowledge.

"What kind of nonsense—" I finally managed to say, but it sounded weak, even to my own ears.

"Call it nonsense if you want," he said, his voice almost amused but still laced with that infuriating calm. "But deep down, you already know I'm right."

He turned and padded away, his tail swaying lazily as if he hadn't just dropped some cryptic bomb on me.

I stood there, staring after him, my fists clenched at my sides. Love? Power? What kind of fairytale garbage was he spouting?

But somewhere deep inside, something about his words stuck. And I hated it.