Chapter 69: The Price of Giving Up.

Surprisingly, Violet has no curfew.
But that isn’t freedom; it’s simply proof of a harsher reality.

What decides Violet’s curfew is neither her father nor herself; it depends entirely on Mary-June’s or her stepmother’s whims.
If either of them so much as thinks of Violet, she is instantly “late.”
If neither cares, she could stay out until morning and no one would bat an eye.

Well, there’s always the chance of being scolded for appearances’ sake… but no one is actually worried about her safety.
She has been made painfully aware that not a grain of sand’s worth of concern exists for her.
Her heart has long since withered past the point of hurting.

Now she expends neither emotion nor energy.
Even if complaints are hurled at her, she lets them pass in one ear and out the other.
The moment she reacts, she loses.
It’s far easier to become a punching bag.
Whether that’s habit or resignation, she isn’t sure; neither is healthy.
But she never expected a healthy life in this house to begin with.

“I was nervous, but I think I did my very best!”

“I see. It must have been tough for your first exam.”

So tonight, too, she turns herself into a machine.
She pushes the three smiling faces to the edge of her vision and becomes an inorganic object that only moves its hands and mouth.

Whether her taste buds function depends on the day; it’s a roulette even she can’t predict.
Sometimes she can taste the food, but when she tries to empty her mind, everything becomes nothing more than lumps of nutrition; objects to fill her stomach.

She feels sorry for the effort put into cooking.
When she eats alone in her room, the same food is delicious.
The fact that the taste changes so drastically just because the location and the people sharing the space are different…

Still, being able to swallow without wanting to spit it out means they must be preparing it with her in mind.
The texture, the way it goes down; nothing triggers the discomfort of tastelessness.

That realization brings relief, and at the same time dread.
If it’s already like this now… what will happen when the results come out?

Just thinking about it makes the pit of her stomach feel heavier.

×　×　×　×

The exam results are posted in the hallway, separated by year.
She can’t see Mary-June’s class ranking, but if it’s anything like last time, she is undoubtedly first.

Even when Violet offered no help, Mary-June took the top spot effortlessly.
This time, with the difficulty lowered and full support, confirming it feels almost pointless.

(I’m… fourth.)

She can’t remember her rank from last time; she’s already forgotten.
But she has definitely climbed a lot.
Most people would call it an excellent result.
Objectively.
To an outsider.

To her father, however, being below Mary-June is grounds for condemnation.
Even if she had placed higher, the scolding would merely be slightly smaller.
A day when that man praises Violet will never come; not as a possibility, but as guaranteed, predetermined future.

The moment she isn’t first, she becomes “the embarrassing older sister who can’t even take first place.”
And even if, through desperate effort, she did take first; it would be acknowledged as “only natural,” with no praise, and that would be the end.

What an unfair, brutal family.
Only Violet is burdened with expectations, while the other three seem to believe they are the ideal family.

(Well… I’m used to it by now.)

She has grown so accustomed, so resigned, that a single sigh is enough to let it go.
Anger no longer rises.
Having failed once, she has become remarkably energy-efficient.

“…I wonder how Yulan did.”

She feels neither worry nor expectation toward her half-sister; not a shred of interest in any sense.

With Yulan, there is no anxiety, yet she still worries.
He is her childhood friend who feels like a little brother; only one year apart, yet she can’t help acting the big sister; it’s practically a habit now.

Yulan is more on Mary-June’s side of the spectrum.
He possesses the talent to quickly absorb and utilize knowledge.
Unlike Mary-June’s unconscious genius, he correctly understands his own abilities.
Either way, he is undeniably excellent.

Yet worry comes before reassurance because somewhere in her heart she still treats him like a child.
The little boy she once protected at her back has grown into a fine young man.
Even so, to Violet he remains her adorable, precious little brother; someone far more important than family.

She smiled wryly at herself for being an overprotective mother.

“He worked hard, so I’m sure he did well…”

But she can’t quite picture how well.

Come to think of it, last time she never once asked about Yulan’s results.
She hadn’t had the leisure to ask.
Mary-June had already crushed all her pride, and her father scorned and scolded her.
Having her existence denied was routine; he refused to acknowledge her effort yet demanded it anyway.
The contradictions were so severe she couldn’t understand them, but to her father they were perfectly logical.
She had endured a full year of that irrationality.
Or perhaps the prison ending was the result of a year’s worth of pent-up resentment finally erupting.

Her mental exhaustion had been so extreme that she had no room to think of Yulan.
In fact, she had probably caused him a lot of worry instead.
Back then, she had been the one burdening him.

She had thrown away and given up on everything, but if that allowed her the margin to care for Yulan, it was more than enough return.

(Oh… I still need to thank the other two as well.)

Thanks to Claudia and Mirania, she had achieved results beyond her actual ability.
She planned to thank Yulan again separately for arranging it, but she owed the two of them extra gratitude for looking after Mary-June as well.

She has no intention of taking her sister’s place, but… honestly, she doubts Mary-June is capable of proper thanks.
It’s not a matter of manners; her values are still those of a commoner.
She seems willing to improve, but failure is not an option when dealing with princes.

And if she does mess up, the one who will be scolded is Violet.

Not by Claudia and the others, but by their blindly doting father.
A father who refuses to give Mary-June anything but affection might very well shove the responsibility for her ignorance onto Violet.

(I’ll ask Marin to prepare something.)

Since she isn’t sure of their tastes, something universally acceptable would be best.
Sweets are the safest bet.
She could ask the head chef; apparently Claudia and the others liked his prized tea leaves, so she could inquire about other rare ingredients too.

But first, she has to endure her father’s irrational tirade.

Realizing that she no longer feels aversion or anger about it; only regression, not growth; she stops thinking altogether.