A Young Lady Who Has Had Everything Exploited By Her Sickly Younger Sister Will Not Let Anyone Take Anything From Her Anymore - Chapter 8

Dion, uncertain of whom Colette might be connected with, began moving cautiously outside, carefully considering his next steps.

Colette had quietly sought help from Alexia and Elsa, but only in ways that would not put them at risk. Yet, it seemed Dion had already reined in his usual flamboyant behavior.

Until her sister’s engagement, Lilianne had always claimed to be in poor health. But curiously, ever since Colette’s engagement to Dion, her condition seemed to have steadily improved.
Perhaps it was Dion’s stories of the outside world that had awakened in Lilianne a desire to venture out herself.

“And you know,” Lilianne beamed, “Lord Dion said he wants to take me out on an outing!”

“…Is that so.”

“He’s truly wonderful! He knows so much… Oh, and yesterday, he called me beautiful!”

Lilianne spoke with sparkling eyes, as if boasting about how close she had grown to Dion—Colette’s own fiancé.
All Colette could do was muster a faint, brittle smile in return.

But in truth, she had known for some time now that Lilianne’s so-called frailty had already begun to fade well before this engagement ever took place.
She had merely continued the act—garnering sympathy from their parents and servants alike, securing her cozy, unquestioned position within the household.
Whenever things became inconvenient, her “illness” would conveniently flare up again.

How many years had it been now since Lilianne last coughed?
No fevers. No medicine. She ate her meals and her sweets—without leaving so much as a crumb.

The maids, the butler, their very parents… they all placed absolute trust in Lilianne.
From her bed, she ruled the Milliact family as though it were her kingdom.

Perhaps, for now, this arrangement sufficed. However, when considering the future, there seemed to be little hope for her personal growth.
Lilianne would remain forever incapable, never stepping beyond her carefully crafted cage.
And those around her, blind to this truth, continued to spoil her, blissfully unaware.
What meaning was there, Colette mused bitterly, in reigning as a queen over such a narrow, stifling world?

(Is Lilianne truly content to live her entire life here like this?)

Once, Colette had envied her younger sister.
Now, she no longer did.

And yet…
What she despised more than anything was herself—the woman who, despite knowing all this, still chose to bow her head and go along with it.
Every morning, as she opened her eyes, the same question echoed inside her heart:

“Is this really how you want to live?”

But no answer ever came.
The thought of leaving this house—of becoming nothing once outside these walls—terrified her.
Perhaps that fear alone had kept her shackled in place.

Then, perhaps emboldened by Dion’s influence, Lilianne declared her desire to attend her very first social gathering.
It was to be a grand affair—noble sons and daughters gathering by day and their elders by night.
The magnificent ball attracted aristocrats from all over the land.

“Everyone will surely be moved by Lilianne’s beauty!”

“I wonder… might I meet a charming prince of my own?”

“Oh, someone is bound to fall for you at first sight! You’ll be the talk of the whole evening!”

“Hehe, I can’t wait!”

Their parents were elated and spared no expense in preparing a dress fit for a princess—lavish, radiant beyond compare.
Seeing Lilianne twirl and smile in it and glow with excitement moved everyone around her to tears.
In contrast, Colette stood in the shadows, watching the scene play out with a hollow gaze.

When Dion arrived in the duke’s carriage to fetch them, his eyes widened the moment he saw Lilianne.

“Lilianne…! You look… absolutely stunning.”

“Oh, Lord Dion, thank you!”

Without a glance toward Colette, Dion extended his hand—not to his fiancée, but to Lilianne—and led her to the carriage.
Left standing alone, she felt a sharp pain twist in her stomach.
The tightness worsened when she remembered that the maids, preoccupied with dressing Lilianne, had thrown her into some half-heartedly chosen gown.
She could already imagine the whispers that would soon swirl around her at the party—rumors that are so heavy, they might choke the very breath from her lungs.

(No doubt they’ll say I let my own sister steal my fiancé… and they’ll laugh about it all night.)

From behind her, she could hear the stifled giggles of the maids, sneering at her expense.
Her father’s sharp voice barked out, “Get going already.”
And her mother chimed in with a sweet yet suffocating command: “Stay close to Lilianne at all times.”

Why was it, Colette wondered bitterly, that she was expected—without question—to attend to her sister’s every need?
Even pondering the answer felt too exhausting now.