Chapter 3

Day Three

To celebrate my sister's birthday, my parents threw a banquet.

And I was to attend as her stand-in.

Mom took it very seriously, specially picking out the silk gown my sister once loved most.

A style from twenty years ago, long outdated.

My sister's gown hung on my thin frame like a clown who had stolen a princess's dress.

As a pup, I was forced to wear it to banquets, and everyone laughed at me behind my back.

Now I put it on without resistance.

Seeing me in that dress, Mom's eyes instantly reddened.

I knew she was viewing me as my sister again.

That loving gaze had never truly rested on me.

"Rose, my most beloved daughter. Mom is so proud of you."

"Everyone in Shadow Pack will be there. Remember to smile. Don't be nervous."

"Rose loved chatting with Elder Dorian. Make sure you talk to him."

Mom instructed me one thing at a time, as if terrified I might make a mistake, shatter the illusion of my sister, and force them all to wake from the dream.

What she didn't know was that after eighteen years of imitation, my sister's mannerisms had seeped into my very soul.

I had already known my sister far better than my Mom.

On the night of the banquet, every guest who saw me remarked:

"Rosalie looks so much like Rose..."

"Twenty years has flown by. Back then Rose wore this same dress, smiling and saying hello to everyone."

They were all looking through me, reminiscing about Rose.

Since I was small, every encounter had been the same.

"Rosalie likes red too, and wears her hair long just like Rose."

"Rosalie has the same lively personality as Rose, always running off into the forest."

At first, I would silently protest in my heart:

No. I am nothing like my sister Rose.

I don't like red. I don't like keeping my hair long.

All I want is to stay home quietly, reading and painting. I don't like going outside.

As the years passed and I spent longer and longer imitating my sister, I began to lose myself.

What color was I supposed to like?

What did I enjoy doing in my free time?

What flavors of food did I prefer?

If my sister Rose had never existed from the start, if I had been my parents' first pup.

What would my name have been?

"Rosalie!"

A young man's voice suddenly called out from behind me.

I turned in surprise. It was Edmund, the son of Elder Dorian.

Three years older than me, he was the only person at the banquet who had never met Rose.

And the only person who never mentioned "Rose" in front of me.

Three years ago he had left for the Werewolf Academy, and we hadn't seen each other since then.

"Long time no see, Rosalie."

He reached out and ruffled my hair, just as he used to when we were children.

Then he handed me a gift box.

"This is for you."

I took it in a daze and opened it.

Inside was a complete set of expensive art supplies.

Edmund scratched his head sheepishly.

"I remember you loved painting when we were little. I'm not sure if you still keep using these."

Then he brought out a gift bag.

"I picked this out for you. I hope you like it."

I looked down.

Inside was a pale blue dress and a white short-sleeved blouse.

Simple styles, yet they made my eyes sting with tears in an instant.

Rose's smile was still fixed on my face.

At this moment, what would Rosalie say? What would Rosalie do?

I couldn't remember at all.

A searing pain burned through my chest, and my wolf let out a mournful cry.

In just one day, its color had grown fainter, its presence weaker.

It struck me all at once that I didn't need to wait for the illness to claim my life at all.

The real Rosalie had died long before Rose.

What remained now was nothing more than a crude forgery of my sister.

And before long, I shall die in the same way as she did.