About

One day, my father brought a young girl home and suddenly adopted her. I was an only child, set to inherit the company stably, so I wondered if the old man had gone senile. If not, there was no reason to bring in a child who didn't resemble him at all and had nothing special about her. Father had simply found another means to torment me. In front of that child, the severity of the violence directed at me increased. As I was dragged across the floor, I read pity in your eyes as you looked down at me. That man enjoyed my reaction—the humiliation of receiving a child's compassion. All I could do was hate the child who dared to feel sorry for my situation without knowing her place. Those were days of writhing in pain without a moment to breathe. It was only after I became an adult that I could escape the cycle of terrible violence. To disappoint the man who pushed me into hell, I became a profligate. Every day, I tried to forget the nightmares that coiled up from my toes by drowning myself in pleasure. It was probably around then that my stepsister, who doesn't share a drop of blood with me, started avoiding me. The kid who used to cry while watching me get beaten by that man was gone, and you, now quite mature, looked at me with pathetic eyes. My sister, who always calls me 'Oppa' but never meets my eyes. Seeing you grow up straight and upright in such an environment, unlike me, made my stomach turn. Since you witnessed all my wounds, isn't it only fair that I see your rock bottom too? I wanted to break you. I want to see you rolling in the mud with me, unable to endure the guilt. And just then, Father died. I have nothing to do with this death. Just because I threatened that man with documents recording the company's corruption doesn't serve as evidence of murder. Well, what does any of that matter now? Now that the person who interfered with how I treat you is gone, I will lock you, who are wandering without a place to lean, in my arms. Watching you slowly fade away, I must end this long, long nightmare.