That night, snow fell over Falling Cherry City.

The next morning, Kanata awoke to find the trees outside her window bowed under the weight of fresh snow, a soft layer blanketing the ground.

A chill hung in the air. Woken by the cold, Kanata felt a dull ache still throbbing in her abdominal wound. She noticed Nozomi curled up beside the bed, fast asleep in thin clothing. She had no idea when her sister had arrived—but for someone with limited mobility to travel from home to the hospital must have been exhausting.

*Sigh…*

She’d meant to keep this from Nozomi. Most likely, that bastard Gen or Alessia had let it slip.

Despite Kanata moving as quietly as possible, the slightest sound stirred Nozomi awake.

“Kanata, how are you feeling? Does your wound still hurt?”

Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Nozomi’s first words were about her sister’s condition. She’d received a call from an unknown person: *“Your sister is in the VIP inpatient building of Falling Cherry City General Hospital,”* followed by floor and room number—then a hang-up. Minutes later, a knock came at the apartment door. Black-suited bodyguards introduced themselves as escorts and led her away. At first, Nozomi feared kidnapping—but they truly brought her to the hospital. She chose not to mention it; she didn’t want to worry Kanata.

“The wound… doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Kanata lied with practiced ease. In truth, the pain was excruciating. After Alessia’s rough handling last night, she felt worse—but she had to pretend, for Nozomi’s sake.

“Oops… I won’t be able to make you cake or a big meal today…”

Regret struck her. If she hadn’t chased that little beggar, she wouldn’t be hurt. She could’ve cooked a festive feast for her dear sister. Their father used to do that. Now he was gone. Kanata was the household’s pillar. And now… even the pillar was broken.

Still, yesterday wasn’t all loss. She’d used the money earned from Alessia to buy Nozomi lip balm, hand cream, and gloves. A nurse had already wrapped them neatly at her request.

“But the gifts are ready. Right here.”

She opened the bedside drawer, took out the exquisitely wrapped box, and handed it to Nozomi.

Nozomi didn’t smile. Her eyes welled with upset.

“I don’t want your gifts, Kanata. I just… I just want you safe. So please… don’t push yourself for me… *cough, cough…*"

Agitation always triggered her coughing fits.

*Cough… cough…*

The room filled only with the sound of her ragged coughs. Kanata’s heart clenched—but trapped in bed, she could only watch helplessly as Nozomi slowly calmed.

“It’s my fault… I’ll be careful. Just… an accident. Really, I’m fine—the doctor said I’ll be discharged in two days. Don’t worry.”

Kanata tried to soothe her, but the words fell flat. Nozomi had seen it all: the pained sleep-face, furrowed brow, cold sweat on her forehead. Only the earlier painkiller let Kanata sleep till dawn.

Nozomi wasn’t angry about the injury. She was angry Kanata got hurt *for Alessia*—trying to please that heartless woman to secure medicine money. She wanted to say, *“Kanata, cut ties with Alessia,”* but couldn’t. If she did… Nozomi would die. And never see Kanata again. Too cruel.

Kanata had only Nozomi. Nozomi had only Kanata. They clung to each other; neither could lose the other.

“Kanata… please. Don’t get hurt again.”

Nozomi rested her head on Kanata’s shoulder, arms gently circling her back. Kanata’s scent felt deeply comforting.

“I promise—I won’t get hurt again.”

Another lie, delivered with familiar ease. Promises like *“eat well,” “be kinder to yourself”*—all broken.

As long as they stayed in Falling Cherry City, hardship would continue. They couldn’t leave. All Kanata could do was make Nozomi’s life a little softer.

The illness had stolen Nozomi’s right to happiness.

“From now on… I won’t let you cry over me anymore.”