Chapter 4: Secrets, Sacrifice, and Sisterhood

Mason refuses, but Vanessa always finds a way to sneak it out and wash it.

At the dim sink, her hair tied up, her pale hands soaking in soapy water, scrubbing the clothes. Sometimes she’ll straighten up and rub her sore back, muttering about the world.

He finds himself getting used to Vanessa’s big change.

For no reason, Mason feels a heaviness in his chest.

He angrily grabs the school uniform jacket hanging from a tree, like yanking it will get rid of his anger.

But at the last second, his hand stops.

After a while, Mason wipes the dirt from his hands with his already filthy shirt.

Looking at the even dirtier shirt, he takes a deep breath and cracks a smile.

He doesn’t care about the clothes Vanessa washed. Or so he tells himself.

On the oak-lined path, he hums a light tune and strides forward.

His clean arms carefully hold the soft jacket, his arms warm, carrying a faint scent like Vanessa’s.

He heads home, walking into the setting sun.

The leaves overhead are turning gold, the air sharp with the promise of winter. Mason’s steps are lighter than they’ve been in weeks. For a moment, the world feels bigger—like he might just belong here after all.

-

Mason is in a good mood.

Vanessa is not.

Because she’s discovered that the boy she’s raised with all her love and peace—

Well, her brother—

Has actually gotten into a fight!

And he’s not the least bit sorry about it.

Does she look blind? He comes home, covered in blood, and just sits down to dinner!

Vanessa smiles calmly: "Little Mason?"

Mason sips his soup.

She tries to stay calm: "Mason."

The kid picks up a bite of food.

Vanessa explodes: "Mason Grant!"

"..."

Mason avoids her eyes.

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, so he changes the subject.

"Why aren’t you eating..."

"Eat what! Mason, you’re all grown up! I’m so mad, I’m full!"

Vanessa slams her chopsticks down and stomps to the sofa.

"Not eating!"

Mason shrinks at her sudden outburst.

He tries to speak: "Then I..."

"You what? Sit down and eat!" You brat.

Mason: "..."

Is he being too obedient?

"When you’re done, come over here." Your sister is furious.

Mason wants to talk back, but ends up mumbling a weak, "...Okay."

He regrets it. He shouldn’t have listened to her just now.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be pinned on the sofa right now.

Vanessa’s strength isn’t normal—she uses just the right amount of force to pin him, forcing Mason to show her his bloodied, bruised back.

He tries to struggle, but the wounds hurt.

Mason’s injuries are all minor scrapes, but they cover his body. His cool, delicate skin, usually like white porcelain, is now marked with bruises and dark red spots, ruining its beauty.

Vanessa carefully lifts his shirt. The boy has no muscle yet, just thin, beautifully shaped shoulder blades like butterfly wings. Lying there, his body tensed, you can see every ridge of his spine.

Vanessa cleans his wounds, gently applies ointment with her fingertips.

She thinks of the Mason from the original story.

Back then, he was all alone—where did he live, how did he go to school, did he fight and get hurt? Did he just let the wounds heal on their own?

To Vanessa, Mason was just a mission target, a fictional character in a book world.

But inevitably, she still feels a pang of heartache.

In the past, her world-hopping missions usually started at the climax—she just had to watch the main couple succeed and mind her own business.

This time is different. She landed at the main character’s lowest point, watching him grow bit by bit.

At an age when kids should be innocent, he was forced to learn independence and strength.

A crystal-clear, hot tear falls on Mason’s back. In the too-quiet room, he hears the soft "plop" as it lands.

She...cried?

Why is she crying?

One suppressed sob after another follows. Vanessa’s hand trembles as she applies ointment, her voice shaky: "So...sorry."

"Sorry, Mason."

"Don’t cry." Mason doesn’t know what to say.

He’s the one hurt—why is she crying?

Vanessa sobs harder, tears falling like beads.

"Sis will work hard from now on, earn money, make sure our Mason lives as well as before. I’ll never let Mason be bullied again."

"..." What kind of tragedy is she imagining? He frowns in annoyance: "Got it."

Vanessa wipes her tears, nodding.

"Mm, sis will do her best."

"Come on, turn over, you’ve got wounds on your waist too."

Mason: ...

At some point, it starts to rain again.

The chilly season usually calms people down, but clearly, it can’t calm Mason.

Vanessa’s hair is super black and soft, brushing lightly across his waist, tickling him.

Her hands are warm and gentle as she circles around to apply ointment to his waist.

He stares blankly, unable to look away.

"What’s wrong, Mason?" Vanessa notices his little movements and meets his eyes.

"Nothing," Mason says.

...

The girl applies ointment gently and naturally. But the boy feels awkward, turning his head away from her face.

He seems to think that’s not enough, so he covers his eyes with his arm, lips pressed tight.

His other hand quietly clenches into a fist.

He can tell the atmosphere is off—really off.

Strong concern is a great mission strategy, and Vanessa is using it well.

She’s breaking down Mason’s walls, testing his limits step by step.

Unexpectedly, Mason is frighteningly obedient.

He doesn’t resist her control, his raised arm covering his eyes, showing off the graceful lines of his neck and arms.

His exposed chin and jawline have that quality between youth and adulthood, like a masterful sculpture.

His shirt is pushed up to his stomach, messy and stained with blood.

Her so-called brother is really good-looking.

This ointment session ends with Mason insisting on doing it himself and running into the bedroom to slam the door.

The direct cause is probably Vanessa’s breath, which scares Mason so much he runs off, his eyes looking like a wronged maiden.

She swears, that was just an unconscious action after applying ointment.

She was just showing motherly care for her brother.

Vanessa tidies up the dishes and changes into a well-fitted dress.

The original owner had a great figure—fair skin, beautiful face, big chest, small waist. The fitted dress, even if conservatively cut, still looks a bit sexy on Vanessa.

She has an interview. She’s heard the pay is high, and in this world, she only has a high school diploma. But after traveling through so many worlds, she’s picked up a lot of skills.

She wants to give it a shot.

Her makeup, unused for ages, is already dusty. Her ivory face still has tear stains, her eyes red.

She’s not a very emotional person—she saves her tears for the right moment.

Just now was a good time, at least for her.

The makeup gives her a more mature look.

Vanessa knocks on Mason’s door in black heels.

"Mason, I have something to do and I’m going out. Rest early."

After a few seconds, she hears Mason’s slightly hoarse, adolescent voice: "Got it."

"Not going to say goodbye to your cute sister?"

Mason is silent.

...

"Goodbye."

"My cute sis—ter."

Vanessa smiles in satisfaction. Even if he’s gritting his teeth, at least he called her sister.

And said she was cute.

Looks like the tears and warmth strategy worked.

Vanessa is so moved, she almost wants to cry.

Her brother is really cute—the more she looks, the more obedient he seems.

Lately, Mason barely sees Vanessa—she leaves early and comes home late, always busy.

Most of the time, when he gets home, there’s hot food in the kitchen. Or in the morning, he’ll run into a yawning Vanessa, smelling faintly of smoke and alcohol, making him breakfast.

Mason chases her to bed, makes himself something simple, and Vanessa doesn’t insist—she just goes to sleep.

What is she doing?

Last time, one of the boys who fought with Mason—a curly-haired guy named Tyler Moore, the ringleader—tried to invite him out for dinner.

"Hey, Mason. I’ll treat you to lunch, at that old place—what’s it called, Riverbend Grill."

"Not going."

"Come on, Mason, it’s not like you’re eating your last meal. And there’s a pretty lady there, great figure! I just added her on Instagram!"

Mason dodges his chatter: "None of my business."

Tyler won’t give up, shamelessly wanting to show him the pretty lady.

On the phone screen is a familiar figure.

The girl smiles sweetly at the camera. Behind her is a shabby but tidy rental room, and part of his own arm is in the shot.

At that moment, she seems to be calling him.

"Mason, Mason, come here, take a selfie with your sister, okay!" Her voice is always light and sweet when she talks to him.

...

Mason’s face darkens.

Tyler is quick to notice: "If you don’t want to, then..."

"Let’s go. I’ll check it out." He quickly heads out.

Tyler is stunned.

Didn’t he just say it was none of his business?

Changed his mind that fast...

So this is what he likes!

Just dragging him off?

...Mason really is a man of action. Amazing!

The grill is a little out of the way, not many people on the street.

It’s already December, and the wind is cold.

After leaving the restaurant, Vanessa hugs her arms, shivering in her thin shirt.

Mason had dragged her out in a hurry, not saying a word the whole way.

He walks ahead, and Vanessa realizes the brat who used to be so much shorter is now about as tall as she is.

These past months, they barely see each other, only exchanging a few words when they do.

This is the first time he’s held her hand like this.

Vanessa figures he must have seen what happened earlier.

Mason may be sharp-tongued and stubborn, but he’s not a bad kid.

Sometimes, he’s even a little righteous.

He’s a teenager, not very old, so it’s normal for him to hate adults’ shady deals.

She stops walking.

"Why’d Mason come today? With a good friend?"

She almost forgets—this brat dared to come here to spend money!

Growing up, huh? He’s got to own up to his mistakes!

The streetlights shine through the branches, casting patchy shadows.

Mason’s features are hidden in the darkness, only his thin, tense lips showing his struggle.

His left hand holds her wrist, his right hand gripping something tightly.

"Vanessa."

"Hm?"

He opens her hand and puts a card in it.

The cool plastic makes Vanessa pause.

"The password is 072490. There’s about 180,000 in it." It’s Mason’s old savings.

...

"So our Mason is a little rich man." Vanessa smiles. "But, your sister doesn’t need this. I have my own."

Her gaze is gentle. Mason awkwardly looks away, avoiding that kind expression.

...Like a mom looking at her son.

"Take the card. Don’t work here anymore. It always smells like grease—too gross."

Vanessa laughs: "I shower every day before seeing you. How could there be a smell?"

"If I say there is, then there is." Mason insists.

He thinks of Tyler’s curly hair: "And, don’t add random people on Instagram."

"Why not?"

"I don’t like it."

Vanessa ruffles his soft hair. "Tonight was nothing. Your sister’s awesome—how could I get taken advantage of so easily?"

"But...since you said so, I won’t go anymore, okay?"

Mason turns to look at her, his eyes shining like stars. "Really?"

"Really."

"You said it—you can’t take it back."

"Of course not."

Mason suddenly feels relieved.

He turns and walks ahead, the person behind him can’t see his uncontrollable smile.

The cold card sits in Vanessa’s palm. She sighs.

...$180,000, still nowhere near enough to pay off the debt.

Kids don’t know how expensive life is.

She just lost the best-paying job in miles, and it breaks her heart.

Up ahead, Mason notices she hasn’t caught up, so he turns back and calls her.

"Let’s go home."

"Sis."

Vanessa grins and runs to catch up.

On the empty street swept by the cold wind, their voices echo far away.

"Mason, say that again?"

"No."

"Say it."

"..."

"Don’t you like your sister? Do you? Do you?"

"..."

"Your sister’s sad—boohoohoo."

...

"..."

"Sis."