"Why would you say that? We're family," Jake insisted.
Grace pretended to shy away from Jake's hand while casting a timid glance at me, as if silently accusing me of something.
Jake immediately shot me a vicious look. "Wendy! Why are you bullying Grace? How could you become this kind of person? You were never like this before!"
What kind of person had I become, exactly? The ones who had changed were them.
Mom, who once thought of me first in everything; Dad, who was strict but gentle; and Jake, who always protected me, had all become strangers to me.
I smiled coldly, looking straight into Jake's eyes as I answered, "Why don't you ask Grace? How exactly have I bullied her? I gave her my room—what more could she want?"
Grace grew nervous at my question, instinctively avoiding my gaze. Her fearful demeanor further ignited Jake's protective instincts, and he shouted at me without restraint.
"It's that superior attitude of yours that hurts her! Grace just arrived in our family, so it's only right that you accommodate her!"
Suddenly, I became the enemy who needed to be vanquished, while Jake transformed into the prince protecting his princess.
My saintly parents only took sides as usual. "Wendy, your brother rarely comes home. Don't make him angry. Quickly apologize to Jake and Grace."
I looked at this family, whose favoritism knew no bounds, and replied firmly word by word, "Grace can have whatever she wants from me because I don't care about those things. But making me apologize? Not a chance!"
I locked myself in my room after spitting these words, shutting out Jake's impotent rage and shouting. Later, the four of them spent a joyful day together. No one remembered to call home to check on me, nor did anyone remember to bring back food for me.
I would have felt incredibly wronged and might have gone on a hunger strike or even run away from home to make my parents feel guilty if this had been my previous life. But now I knew such actions would be futile and would only hurt myself.
I made myself a hearty bowl of instant noodles and spread out the supplementary textbooks I had secretly purchased.
I had been working diligently to improve myself since my rebirth, never daring to slack off for a single day. I would carve out my own path through my own efforts in this life. I had also decided to study medicine after careful consideration.
As a seven-year-old with the intelligence of my 20-something past life, I was far ahead of Grace academically. Grace's innocent victim act worked on my family with their savior complex, but it didn't work on school teachers—a failing grade was a failing grade.
I ranked first in our year at the end of the term, while Grace was near the bottom. Every time she was called in by teachers for her poor performance, Grace would cry and claim her eye condition was acting up due to stress.
Nonetheless, she stubbornly refused to transfer to a special school. She would throw the household into chaos during exam weeks.
My saintly parents attended her parent-teacher conferences together to spare Grace's feelings and prevent her from being looked down upon by classmates due to her adopted status, even when mine was scheduled for the same day.
My parents couldn't possibly be unaware that their favoritism had made me a target for mockery and bullying at school. My classmates called me the child who had life but no love.
