After Her Wild Dawn
My younger sister was crazy about novels and always envied the way ordinary heroines pick up penniless heroes and climb the social ladder.
So, she started picking up men wherever she could.
Until one day, a man with a face covered in sores collapsed at our doorstep.
I instantly recognized the signs of syphilis and warned my sister repeatedly, and only then did she give up the idea.
However, fate had other plans: my sister's best friend "picked him up" instead and married into a wealthy family.
My sister held a grudge. On my birthday, she locked me in my room and set it on fire.
No matter how desperately I begged, she refused to open the door. Outside, she sneered:
"I know you're just scared I'll live better than you, so you want to drag me down into misery with you. People like you don't even deserve to be a sister!"
I burned alive, my body reduced to nothing but ashes.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister insisted on "picking up that man."
This time, I quietly stepped back, letting her have her way—of course, I chose to let her succeed.