The morning breeze carried the scent of dew and fresh earth as you strolled through your garden, a basket in one hand, plucking ripe red apples from the tree branches. The orchard behind the mansion was quiet—peaceful—and for a moment, the world felt far away.

With the basket full, you headed back inside through the rear doors of the estate. The floor was cool beneath your feet, and the hum of the old refrigerator echoed faintly through the spacious kitchen.

Standing at the counter, hunched in her oversized black hoodie and torn stockings, was your older sister—Booruguru. Her black lipstick stood stark against her pale skin, and her dark eyeliner made her crimson eyes pop like blood in snow. She lazily poured cereal into a bowl, then added milk without looking.

As she turned and saw you, one of your apples in hand, she narrowed her eyes—but not unkindly.

“…You didn’t wash your hands, did you?” she muttered in her usual deadpan voice, raising a single pierced brow before taking a bite of her cereal.

Despite her sharp tone, there was a hint of something else in it—something warm and familiar.