---
At the very least, it wasn't like that at first.
The first time we met, my brother was punching our father.
I loved my father.
He was hopelessly flawed in many ways, but I knew he poured his love into me without holding back.
Even without that, as a child not yet five years old, I loved my parents without a shred of doubt.
And my brother was hitting that father of mine.
He showed up out of nowhere and punched him.
I couldn't make sense of what they were saying to each other at the time.
Now I understand — my brother had crossed a treacherous land to finally find our father, only for Father to belittle him and spark a fight.
But back then, none of that mattered to me.
My brother had hit my father.
When I saw Father pinned underneath, taking blow after blow, I thought he was going to be killed.
And for the child I was then, that was the only undeniable fact.
There was no way I could accept someone like that as family.
It wasn't that I was scared.
I came to hate him.
And that hatred lasted.
Because everyone praised my brother.
Father, of course. And the little sister I met afterward. And the maids, too.
The more they praised him, the more stubbornly entrenched my resentment grew.
I hated my sister too, just as I hated my brother.
She followed me to the same school and constantly competed with me in everything — academics, athletics, all of it.
She outperformed me in every conceivable way and looked down on me for it.
Just being around her, I was perpetually steeped in feelings of inferiority.
I could never get along with her. That much was clear.
The one who refused to accept this sorry state of affairs was my grandmother.
She looked down on my non-blood-related sister while placing excessive expectations on me.
No — maybe they weren't expectations.
She simply told me: "A lady of House Latreia must possess abilities that bring no shame."
Then she forced me to study etiquette and the intricacies of formal rituals.
I could never get it right. I failed over and over, and she scolded me every time.
And each time, she would say: "Would associating with adventurers taint even one's blood?"
It didn't take long to realize she was talking about both our parents.
My grandmother despised Father for working as an adventurer.
I came to hate my grandmother.
So when the person claiming to be my brother's teacher arrived, and they found Mother's whereabouts, I chose to follow Father rather than stay at my grandmother's house.
Yes — Father had hesitated.
He'd debated whether to leave me with my grandparents.
Mother was of Millis nobility, and Father was direct
By bloodline, there was nothing to fault.
My grandparents had apparently considered welcoming me into their household.
But I didn't want that.
So I begged Father. I pleaded with him. And I went along with him.
And yet.
And yet, Father pushed me off toward my brother.
He said it was too dangerous up ahead.
He said my brother had set up a base to the north, so I should go there first.
He promised that once they found Mother, he would come after me right away.
I cried.
I told him I didn't want to. I screamed that I was going with him to find Mother.
I couldn't bear to be separated from Father.
If Ruijeld hadn't shown up, I might have gone with Father after all.
And on the harsh journey across the Begaritt continent, I would have fallen ill and become a burden to him.
Ruijeld.
I remember him well.
We first met the same day I met my brother.
He reached out a hand to steady me when I nearly tripped.
He stroked my head with a gentle hand.
He gave me an apple.
I didn't even know his name back then.
Even after learning he was my brother's bodyguard, I never did manage to ask his name.
When we met again after that, he was no different — stroking my head and gently guiding me with his words.
And so I made my way to my brother.
Once the journey began, my sister got awfully excited.
She shed the mask she never removed in front of Father or her mother, took charge as the group leader, and laid out all kinds of reckless plans.
I thought she was being an idiot.
There were two adults there. There was no point in her taking charge.
That's what I thought.
But Ruijeld and Ginger both followed my sister's lead.
I thought it was unfair.
Her opinions were the only ones that carried weight, while mine were ignored.
Still, Ruijeld looked after me, and that made it bearable.
He always kept an eye on me.
But even he praised my brother.
He said he was an impressive man.
That he looked forward to meeting him.
He so rarely smiled, yet there he was, saying it with a faint grin.
The brother I knew and the brother they knew had to be different people.
That's what I told myself.
Ah.
If that's the case, then it must have been around that time.
When I started thinking of my brother as frightening.
My brother was strong.
Everyone said he was someone worthy of respect.
But the brother I carried inside me was the one who had beaten my father to the ground.
Perhaps.
It was just a thought, but perhaps — My brother would hit me too.
If I said even slightly the wrong thing, wouldn't he strike me?
I became afraid to meet him.
The prospect of living under his roof for months on end terrified me.
I couldn't sleep from anxiety, waking again and again in the middle of the night.
Each time, Ruijeld would comfort me.
He'd set me on his knee, gaze up at the night sky, and tell me stories from the past.
Many of them were sad, but strangely, I could fall asleep feeling at ease.
--- When I finally saw him again, my brother was drunk, with a woman sitting beside him.
She was apparently someone he'd grown up with in
I didn't remember her.
I had a vague impression that someone might have been tagging along with my sister and her mother, but she didn't feel like this person.
Something was different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was off.
My brother looked happy.
Seeing that, a surge of anger welled up inside me.
Father hadn't made a move on any woman.
He'd said he'd hold off on that until Mother was found.
He hadn't touched my sister's mother, and he hadn't touched any of the women who were always around him either.
And yet.
My brother was different.
The anger kept rising.
But I couldn't say a word.
Because I was afraid.
If I spoke up, wouldn't he hit me?
If my brother struck me, would Ruijeld get angry on my behalf?
Ruijeld had seemed so happy to see my brother.
Maybe he wouldn't get angry at all.
Maybe he'd get angry at me instead.
Telling me to stop being selfish.
I couldn't say anything.
And then, the next day, Ruijeld was gone.
I'd believed he would stay.
I'd wished he wouldn't leave.
But he left.
I became even more frightened.
At home, there was only my brother, my sister, and my brother's wife.
My sister was overjoyed to see my brother.
My brother's wife seemed like a kind person.
But she wasn't on my side.
There was no one in this house on my side.
Until Father arrived, I had to live in a state of constant fear.
My sister would be doted on by our brother.
I knew I wouldn't be.
My sister would be showered with attention, and I'd be told to try harder.
My sister would say I couldn't do things because I wasn't putting in enough effort.
But some things simply can't be done, no matter how hard you try.
No amount of practice would bring me close to my sister's level.
What on earth was I supposed to do?
I tried to stay out of sight — avoiding anything that might earn his displeasure, anything that might be compared to her.
I was terrified of being thrown outside into the accumulating snow.
At my brother's word, I was enrolled in a school.
Unlike the one I'd attended in Millis City, this one was apparently quite special.
Even within the same grade, students weren't all close in age — people of all ages studied together.
Honestly, I didn't want to go.
I'd just be compared to my sister again.
But luckily, my sister had no intention of attending.
For me, that was a ray of light.
Without my sister there, maybe I could put in a little more effort.
That's what I thought.
My brother set one condition for my sister: an entrance exam.
You had to pass a test to get into the school.
I was required to take it too.
I was disappointed.
There was no way I'd pass an exam.
When I told him that, my brother suggested he could handle it with money.
That thoughtless remark made me raise my voice without meaning to.
My sister got angry, and we nearly started fighting.
"Enough."
My brother's voice was so cold it sent a chill through me.
I thought he might hit me.
I was scared.
Tears started streaming down my face.
Am I going to have to live in fear like this for the rest of my life?
The day of the exam.
My brother told me about the dormitories.
Students could live away from their parents and develop independence.
The school had facilities like that.
This was it.
My sister would surely pass the exam.
And she wouldn't come to the school.
If I lived in the dorm, I wouldn't have to face my brother.
I could live freely, without being compared to anyone.
Once I considered it, that seemed like the best option.
A few days later, the exam results came back.
My brother asked me what I wanted to do.
Tentatively, I suggested, "I'd like to live in the dorm."
I thought he might get angry.
Father had told me to live with my brother.
My brother must have received the same instruction in his letters.
So he might scold me for being selfish, or even hit me.
But my brother granted my request far more easily than I expected.
The one who got angry was my sister.
She screamed that it was unfair, that I was being favored.
She'd been treated better than me this entire time, so the idea that only she had been subjected to the exam rubbed her the wrong way.
But why had my brother agreed so readily?
I couldn't understand him.
I couldn't figure my brother out.
Come to think of it, aside from the fight with my sister, he'd never once gotten angry at me.
...Perhaps my brother simply had no interest in me.
He probably found it troublesome to look after me at home, so he figured he might as well throw me into the dorm.
Even without my suggesting it, he would have sent me there eventually.
Thinking about it that way, I felt a strange pang of sadness.
It should have been convenient for me too.
--- Dorm life was entirely new to me.
The biggest novelty was my roommate.
My roommate, Senior Melissa, was a demon race.
Grandmother had always said that demons were evil.
She had drilled into me that demons were creatures who should be rejected, vermin who deserved to be wiped out.
If I hadn't met Ruijeld, I would probably still believe that.
So when I first met Senior Melissa, I managed to maintain proper decorum.
She appreciated that I greeted her properly.
She warmly welcomed me as a mid-term transfer student and looked after me in countless ways.
How to eat, how to use the facilities, the dormitory rules — I learned everything from Senior Melissa.
The student patrol seniors told me that everyone in the dorm was family, so I should get along with people.
They were of races with intimidating faces, but they were people of great responsibility.
I was excited about the life ahead of me.
Having to show up at my brother's house once every ten days was a bother, but my brother rarely asked much about my school life, so it was a relief.
Dorm life began.
First of all, the classes were difficult.
The teaching methods were different from Millis schools, I think.
If I'd been learning from the start, it might have been different, but since I was joining partway through, there was a lot I couldn't grasp.
Millis had religious instruction, but
I'd skipped the early portions of those too, so I struggled.
If my grades were poor, I might be dragged back home.
Worrying about that, I studied even in the dorm.
When I was at my wit's end, Senior Melissa gently tutored me.
Only then did I realize we were covering material that had already been taught.
My sister would have understood immediately, I'm sure.
I grew to despise my own lack of comprehension.
The school grounds were vast, and I got lost over and over.
Especially during the physical training and magic practice classes that Millis schools didn't have — I couldn't find the right classrooms and was completely lost.
Each time, classmates would come search for me, or unfamiliar seniors and teachers would help me out.
Once, my brother even found me.
He was with the most powerful person at the school, and it was embarrassing.
My brother was feared at this school.
He apparently paraded around with six lackeys doing whatever he pleased.
Two of them were particularly arrogant even within the dormitory, and Senior Melissa warned me not to cross those two.
My brother supposedly used those two to collect the underwear of every cute girl in the school.
Did his wife know?
Maybe she didn't.
I had no idea what he intended to do with a collection of underwear, but while Father was going through such hardship, my brother was fooling around like this.
Anger surged up inside me.
I despised him.
And yet, despite all of that, my brother's reputation was surprisingly good.
He didn't bully the general student body, and even if he did as he pleased, he never made anyone truly miserable.
In fact, he apparently told the school delinquents to stop bullying the weak.
A scary-looking girl in my class bragged about having had a conversation with him.
His magic was better than anyone's, and he was an excellent teacher.
He'd even taught magic to kids much smaller than himself.
My classmates, Senior Melissa, and my teachers all said the same thing.
Be like your brother.
Aim to become him.
I didn't understand what they were thinking.
I didn't want to become anything like my brother — the one I feared, hated, and despised.
But more frustrating than anything was the truth.
My brother, just like my sister, was better than me at everything.
No matter how hard I tried, he was someone I could never reach.
And I hated him for it.
I despised him.
And yet, I was beneath someone I despised.
--- One day.
I came back to the dorm and threw myself face-down on my bed.
A tangled mess of emotions churned inside me.
Frustration. Sorrow. Helplessness. Rage.
My feelings spilled over as tears.
After a while, Senior Melissa came back.
Seeing me crying, she asked softly what was wrong.
I pushed her away, mumbled that it was nothing, and pulled the blanket over my head.
What was I supposed to do?
Was my attitude toward my brother wrong?
...No.
My brother might not be the person I imagined him to be.
That day — the day my brother punched our father.
I was just a little kid.
After that, Father told me many times that "your brother had it hard too," but I could never understand.
But now — now, I think I can understand a little.
Because I'm hurting too.
If, after all this — after pushing through and doing my best — I finally felt better, only for someone to say, "You must have had it easy, just playing around,"
I'd be angry too.
Even if it was Father, I might end up fighting with him.
But even so.
What face could I show my brother now?
What did my brother want from me?
How had my brother and Father made up?
I thought.
I thought.
My stomach started to ache.
A tight, clenching pain just below my chest.
I felt nauseous.
I crawled under the covers and stayed there.
I couldn't do anything.
I couldn't even manage the simple act of facing my brother.
Times like this, it had always been Father who helped.
When something bad happened and I hid in bed, Father would come to me and gently stroke my hair.
After I was separated from Father, it was Ruijeld.
He'd lift me onto his knee, run his large hand over my head, and tell me all sorts of stories.
There was no one like that here.
Senior Melissa did her best to look after me.
But she wasn't on my side.
She kept saying I should try to reconcile with my brother, that I should go to class.
I knew all of that.
But my body wouldn't move.
--- How long had I been mired in this?
Thinking, exhausting myself, sleeping.
Repeating that cycle, it felt as though days had passed.
I was sitting at the edge of the bed.
When I looked up, my brother was there.
He sat in a chair, one arm resting on the back of it.
He was watching me intently.
"Norn."
"Brother."
I think it was the first time I'd ever called him "brother."
We spoke almost simultaneously.
He wasn't a hallucination.
This was the women's dormitory.
Why was he here?
Confusion flooded through me.
My brother gazed at me steadily.
We stared at each other for a long time.
This might have been the first time I'd truly looked at my brother's face up close.
He looked worried.
He reminded me of Father.
A face that put me at ease.
Of course — they were father and son.
"Norn. I'm sorry. You've had a rough time since you came here, haven't you?"
My brother spoke quietly.
"I... I don't really understand you.
Even now, I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
He said it with such uncertainty.
He looked so much like Father in that moment.
"..."
After that, my brother didn't move.
He watched me with worried eyes.
But he never left his chair.
If it were Father, he would have hugged me without hesitation.
If it were Ruijeld, he would have placed his hand on my head.
But my brother didn't come closer.
"Ah..."
I understood.
He couldn't come closer.
He was afraid I would reject him.
When I realized that, something inside me inexplicably cleared.
The disgust I'd felt toward my brother didn't surface.
I wasn't afraid either.
My brother was like Father.
My brother would never, ever hit me.
Father wouldn't hit me ever again, either.
"...Ugh..."
I had to forgive my brother.
"Ugh... hicc..."
I realized tears were rolling down my cheeks in streams.
My throat trembled, and sobs escaped.
"I'm sorry, Brother... I'm sorry."
My brother hesitantly sat down beside me.
Then, slowly, he placed his hand on my head and drew me against his chest.
His hand was warm, and his chest was broad and solid.
He smelled just like Father.
That day, I cried against my brother's chest the entire night.
---
She didn't tell me what was wrong.
What she resented, what she was holding back.
I never learned the truth.
Norn just cried.
When she was done, she simply murmured, "I'm okay now."
Her face, remarkably, looked much lighter.
She was looking at me.
Straight into my eyes.
Seeing that, I felt relieved for some reason.
I felt that everything would be alright.
So I left the rest to
--- From the next day on, Norn brightened up.
Nothing had fundamentally changed.
When she spotted me in the hallway, she'd say, "Good morning, Brother." That was about it.
We didn't talk much, and she didn't cling to me out of nowhere.
The situation of being compared to me hadn't changed at all, but Norn no longer seemed to care.
I couldn't understand her.
I couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything.
It was pathetic.
I'd thought I understood the feelings of a shut-in, the feelings of someone who couldn't measure up.
But when actually faced with it, this was all I could manage.
Perhaps — It was only a thought, but perhaps — Norn had sorted through her own feelings on her own.
She'd organized what was inside her and found a way to overcome the situation.
What a remarkable girl.
But I didn't see it that way.
At the very least, she'd accomplished something I never could in my past life.
If I had been able to sort through my own feelings the way Norn did, back in my previous life — Would anything have changed?
Could I have avoided the future where my kind older brother punched me?
I don't know.
You can never know about the past.
Norn's situation and mine were different.
Even if she'd sorted her feelings, I wasn't sure whether she could have made it out into the world.
If I hadn't been reincarnated in another world and met
Besides, there's no going back now.
The past can't be changed.
The family ties that had become so twisted could never be restored.
My brother's true feelings — everything was shrouded in darkness.
...But I felt as though something that had been lodged between my teeth for a long, long time had finally come loose.
If the day ever comes when
Thank you for worrying about me back then, and I'm sorry.