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I have a system that lets me transfer my own lifespan to my twin brother.
Once Mom and Dad found out, I became his spare life.
When he got sick, I gave him three days.
When he got nervous before a test, I gave him a week.
On his birthday, they wanted me to hand over a little more, for "good luck."
I gripped the hem of Mom's shirt, my voice shaking.
"Mom, can we skip it just once? I'll really die."
She set down her chopsticks and frowned at me.
"Don't make it sound so terrible. You'll just do a few tasks and get it all back, won't you?"
"Bertie's frail. You're his sister. You can't be this selfish."
Dad simply grabbed my hand and pressed it to my brother's forehead, forcing the transfer through.
"Stop wasting time. Everyone's waiting to celebrate his birthday."
The instant the transfer finished, the system's voice went off in my head.
【Warning! Host's remaining lifespan is approaching the critical threshold.】
I slid slowly down the door until I was sitting on the floor.
They didn't know that the only task that could extend my life was to be loved by them, truly, just once.
But ten years had passed, and the progress bar was still at zero.
They started singing happy birthday, laughter ringing out loud enough to hurt.
I closed my eyes and spoke, quietly, inside my own head.
"When the countdown ends, just erase me. I'm done waiting."
……
I'd barely gotten back to my room when Egbert Henson's voice came through the door.
"Odie, aren't you coming to have cake?"
"Leave her be. She's throwing another fit."
Mom's voice rose over his from the living room.
"Cut the cake, cut the cake. Did you make a wish?"
"I did, I did!"
Egbert laughed, and the sound scraped at me.
The little rush of air from the blown-out candles slipped through the gap under the door. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, and looked down at my hands.
Transparent.
Through my fingertips I could see the grain of the floor tiles.
The system panel hung in front of my eyes. The countdown had already hit zero, and the red frame was flashing, on and on.
【Lifespan at zero. Separation of host consciousness complete.】
【Soul retention time: unknown.】
I stood up slowly.
My body was very light. It was strange, really strange, to have no heartbeat, my chest hollow inside.
I walked into the living room.
Egbert was spearing a piece of strawberry cream on his fork and shoving it into his mouth, cheeks puffed out.
Dad was holding up his phone, recording. Mom was leaning sideways against the armrest of the couch, smiling as she watched him.
Eighteen candles stood in the cake on the table.
Eighteen.
Our eighteenth birthday.
Except the cake had only one name written on it: Happy Birthday, Egbert.
"Dad, get a shot of me."
Egbert flashed a peace sign at the camera.
"You got it. Handsome, huh? My son's the handsomest."
Dad leaned in, laughing.
Mom picked up the cake and held it to Egbert's mouth.
"Have another bite. You've lost so much weight, it just breaks my heart."
I walked over to Mom and reached out to touch her shoulder.
My hand went straight through.
I'd known it would be like this.
But the moment my fingers passed through her body, it still hurt.
Not a physical hurt.
The hurt of standing right in front of someone who will never see you.
The truth was, I'd gotten used to it long ago.
Even while I was alive, she'd hardly ever seen me.
The winter I was seven, I curled up in bed with my hand pressed over the left side of my chest.
"Mom, my heart hurts so much."
There was a time when one cry of pain from me and she'd hold me all night.
But that day, she didn't even turn her head.
"You've got a system protecting you. You won't die."
She wrapped Egbert up in her arms, her voice full of irritation.
"Bertie doesn't have a system. He's the one to pity. I have to see to him first."
She scooped Egbert up and rushed off to the hospital.
I ran a fever alone until the middle of the night, huddled under the blankets, waiting until dawn, and she never came back.
That was the first time I understood why my task had always stayed at zero.
She didn't understand that the system kept me alive, but my illness was still there.
I hurt too. I suffered too. I wanted to be cared about too.
"All right, all right, I can't eat any more."
Egbert pushed Mom's hand away and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach.
"Then rest a bit. We'll head to Six Flags in a while. Dad booked you the VIP line."
"Really?"
Egbert shot upright.
"A promise is a promise. You only turn eighteen once. Big day. Has to be a good one."
Dad ruffled Egbert's hair.
Then Mom seemed to remember something and jerked her chin toward my room.
"Go tell your sister. See if she's done sulking."
The corner of Egbert's mouth twisted.
"Not going! She always pulls that face. Makes me feel like I owe her something just for having a birthday."
Mom sighed.
"Fine, we won't call her. That temper of hers—once she digs in, nobody can talk her out of it."
"We'll deal with it when we get back. Don't hold up Bertie's day."
Dad was already changing his shoes at the entryway.
The three of them grabbed their coats and went out the door, chatting and laughing.
The key turned. The bolt dropped.
The apartment went abruptly silent.
I turned to look at the door at the end of the hallway, left ajar.
Through the gap, I could just make out my own feet.
In those canvas shoes washed pale from wear, resting quietly on the floor, not moving at all.
And they hadn't even pushed that door open.
