Yanara scurried her gaze through the large room like a newborn kitten, curious and unwavering.

Concrete walls, reinforced at that, stood clad with ceramic. Vanilla, she presumed the color.

She then looked downward. Marble, she assumed, presided over the floor. White in color.

How extravagant. Was she from the bourgeois, or did the median people get wealthier while she was out?

Factually, in any given civilization, under the presumption of no outer interference or extreme variables, it followed as a matter of course that over time, the populace would become more prosperous, healthier, and the world less dangerous.

What date was it anyway? Hundreds of years have passed since her outing. Though, no guarantees that the time would work similarly in what were possibly different dimensions.

Heck, maybe it's not Earth, but some paranormal parallel reality type shit, she nodded to herself bluntly, blank eyes arm in arm with a bland expression. Probably even worse, my luck considered. Inside a lab, being experimented on by some noodle-ass aliens. Hence the English.

While she tried to fortune read herself, the woman, presumably her brand new sister, glimpsed upward at Yanara, her eyes a capsule of mourning. To see her dear sister not even heeding her a glance.

Oh how shattered she must have been.

“It… it's fine, it really is…” she whimpered tearfully, sobbing after each and every word. “You don’t have to go to serve in the army if you don’t want to… I will be sure to talk our father out of it! Please don’t harm yourself, Yana! Life is precious!”

The girl's pleas went from one ear out the other.

Yanara picked her nose, plucking the hairs within. She reminisced about her close confidant, who used to refer to her as ‘Yan’.

Unfortunately though, or well, mayhaps fortunately, the ancient dwarf had long bit the dust after betraying the demon's trust. Dwarven bastards. Should've known better not to trust the dipshits. Could've saved me from a trip to Purgatory and meeting—

Yanara felt her sister’s palm land on her bare lap, her other hand caressing her cheek.

“Why are you not responding?” the woman asked, her voice a tremble.

Vulnerable, lowly, the demon’s body looked no better than a bloodied corpse, as pale as a porcelain doll. She glanced at her sister, who stood arching above her eye level. Then, she smiled, weakly, and extended her hands, gesturing for a hug.

“What is your name?” she asked softly, eyes relaxed.

The woman sat beside her, visibly puzzled. Was blood loss perhaps causing memory problems? She hugged her sister dearly. “What’s this weird question?”

“What’s your name?” Yanara repeated herself, tightening her grip around the woman. Her voice was even softer, barely a whisper. “Just tell me, would you?”

“Larissa… is my name. But why do you ask? Don’t you know it already?”

“I now know, Lisa.”

Suddenly, Lisa felt something sharp stick against the artery on her neck. She instantly shuddered, but her wounded sister wouldn’t let go. “Now now, calm down, would ya? That’s not the way to behave, Risa. You move one more bit, and I’ll etch onto your neck a tattoo matching the one on my wrist~”

Risa froze, terrified to breathe. The want to swallow was an itch she couldn’t scratch. Any movement and blood would flood like water through a broken dam.

“You know, I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, but there's still a tremendous gulf between us, Lara,” Yanara said, her voice even lower yet heavier all the same. “I specialize in suffering, you see.”

She patted the back of Lara’s head. “In these times of suffering, people reveal their colors. Some allies become enemies. Some adversaries become friends. In times of peril, you witness their true feelings. Adoration, hatred, pity, indignation, grandiosity, friendship, jealousy, love, envy, sorrow, and…”

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“Disappointment.”

Lara didn’t understand anything, yet she felt it. Her impending doom. Her inevitable death. What? How? Why? Her thoughts floundered. Tears welled, her lips shaking, sweat trickles forming faster than in a marathon. Words wouldn’t form from her tongue.

“If you truly cared, you’d be running to check my pulse. You’d call for help and whatnot to save your precious sister. Yet it didn’t cross your mind. Why? Because your heart didn’t care. The words do nothing while the actions tell. You were the one who brought me into this state, weren’t you, Essie? You want me dead, don’t you?” Yanara licked her sister’s ear, sniffing. “I taste your fear. I smell the truth. I see the desperation. How does it feel to succumb to someone you deem unworthy of life? I hear the shivers running.”

Essie heard it — her heart pounding, hammering outward, each beat rising and faster and rising again. Her hair stood on end, flaxen fibers whirling and whimpering in a whirlpool of withering fireworks on her crisp skin.

“The trauma you’ve inflicted on me was so great that my memories vanished… But something within me changed. I can feel it.” Yanara lowered her head, pressing it against her sister’s shoulder. “Amidst my confusion and greater sadness, I wonder one thing, Issa. Why do you want me dead?”

This is for the best, she thought to herself, lowering her hands and throwing the razor beside the floating bed frame. I can’t pretend to be someone I'm not with no prior info, as even the better half of the spies would struggle. The family will immediately notice if I try to become an Oscar-worthy actor— actress, especially this bitch. The best I can do is distort the truth.

If I meet her father— our father with the comprehension I currently have, that is, none at all… or any other person who knew the previous owner of my body, for a matter of fact, without a doubt, I'll get busted, and in the worst case scenario, they'll pull the truth out of me. Yanara leaned back, clamping her hands on her sister’s ears, staring at her snotty face. But against Issa, I have leverage. She's also a narrow-minded— no, a weak-minded youngster. I can indirectly interrogate her and discover the lost memories.

Suddenly, Issa slapped her hands away, sniffling in a fit of tears.

“What would you know?!” Issa screamed at the top of her lungs, exploding with fervor. “Just because you were born a few seconds earlier than I did, you've become an heir to our household! And me?! I'm going to die at the frontlines, operating some stupid robot at best!”

Hold the fuck down, did I hear that right? Yanara had a bad premonition, as though fate itself was laughing at what was about to come. Nobility? Fucking mecha robots? What the fuck—

Issa followed with her barrage after hiccupping for a little, “So you always knew of my struggles and pretended to be ignorant!? What now? Are you going to tell the father that I tried to kill you? That I drove you to despair? Father will surely take your side even if these are lies! Nobody loves me anyway! From the very beginning, everyone adored YOU! You alone! You only! I never even amounted to a speck of dust in others' eyes! Only a toy for you. Disappointment, you say?! You misunderstand! I hate you with all my heart! And you take your own life just because your boyfriend dumped you?! Hah! Hahahahah! Pathetic!!!”

… So… it's a dandy boyfriend problem after all… There… there seems to be some sorta misunderstanding on my part—

“Did the taste of death make you lose your mind too?! Though I wouldn't be surprised if you truly forgot your only sister’s name. I even admired you when we were kids. Hahahahah! Doesn't that make me even more of a loser?” Tears flooded as Issa laughed crazily, her voice echoing, and cracking, and weakening, and… “I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry… I didn't mean it…”

Issa hugged her sister's body, rivers of tears sliding down her sister’s slender shoulders. “Are you really fine? You seem to have lost so much blood. It doesn’t look critical,” she grasped her sister’s wrist, “The cut is thankfully shallow. There is no bleeding, and you’re full of energy, it seems. You're going to be alright, right? It's fine if you tell the father it was me… If you want to get rid of me so much… My life isn't worth anything anyway. But-but I'm so scared of death, Yana. I'm so scared! I don't want to die! If our father really abandons me in the military… what am I to do? Please don’t do this to me!”

But was that her sister, or merely a shell of her sister?

“Shut the fuck up, Izzy.” Yanara finally said, “And get the fuck off me. Stop fucking crying.”

“Huh?”

Before Izzy could muster another word, she saw lights. She was slapped and soon fell to the ground awkwardly. “Ouch…”

Enraged, she immediately stood and pointed a finger at the demon. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Whatever the fuck I want to,” Yanara tsked. “Becoming a proper elder sister.”

Izzy hinged toward Yanara with a fist at ready that, by the looks of it, spoke of absolutely zero fighting experience.

Yanara dodged it with a single flinch.

Instead, Izzy tried to grab at her hair.

She received a punch to her nose. It hurt like hell. “Arghhh!” Izzy bloated.

“Listen well, ” Yanara said, raising her hand in a stopping gesture. “I really lost my memories, okay? What's the deal with the military? Who are we fighting against? Anyhow. From now on, I will always be by your side, helping you as much as you help me, and although I can't compensate you for all the struggles you've gone through, I'll never let you die a miser's death. That's a promise. Understood?”

“Are you for real? Is there any catch?” Izzy held to her nose, anger replaced by confusion. “By the way, where did you learn to fight? You also say you’ve lost your memories, but—”

“I'm not bullshitting. I may be a pathological hypocrite, but I never break my promises,” Yanara said smilingly, “And yes, there's a catch. From now on, whenever I see you whine, I'll beat the living shit out of you.”

“And my name is Larissa.”

“Fine, Lisa.”