The Wet Lady Ghost

Roskaya was actually in the same class as her, the two of them were the same age.

It was only because she was shorter that people assumed she was Ilene’s younger sister.

And since this school didn’t really have fixed seating charts… when Ilene hurriedly ran into the classroom, with just one glance she spotted the girl sitting in the corner, making the room feel a degree colder.

Roskaya had dyed her hair back, restoring it to that pitch-black color.

Her fluffy, thick black hair made her look like a little ghost…

No one wanted to share a desk with Roskaya, so she usually sat with Ilene.

Damn… it wasn’t like she had ignored Roskaya these past few days.

She had replied to every message, so why would she still be like this…

“Roskaya?”

Ilene quickly stepped forward, but Roskaya immediately jerked her head up and pressed her hands tightly over the paper on her desk.

Her small hands couldn’t even cover an A4 sheet, making it easy to see the drawing beneath—it was Ilene, painted in an oil-painting style.

In the picture, Ilene stood like an angel in the classroom, smiling as she ignored everyone else, reaching her hand toward the subject of the painting…

“Si… sister?”

Those gloomy, exhausted green eyes, ringed with dark circles, suddenly widened.

Tiny beads of sweat could be seen on her delicate face, and the flash in her pupils made Ilene squint instinctively.

But that shade of green was like boiling dye—impossible to ignore.

“Your hair… it’s fine, sister.

If you don’t want to socialize, then don’t.

Who bullied you?

Whitney?

Or some other bastard?

I’ll help you get revenge.”

Ilene furrowed her brows, her voice firm.

Her first reaction was that someone had bullied her sister again.

With her personality, it was far too easy for her to be targeted.

In school she had the reputation of being a weirdo—neither teachers nor students liked her much.

And in a place like this, not being liked usually meant only one outcome.

Sometimes Ilene felt less like an older sister and more like a mother… but right now, she didn’t even feel qualified for that role.

“Nobody… sister, nobody bullied me…

I just feel like socializing has no meaning.

If it would make you happy, I wouldn’t mind doing it…

But right now\…”

Her low, fragmented words denied Ilene’s worries.

She simply clutched the hand Ilene offered, closed her eyes, and leaned into it, craving reassurance the way an insomniac longs for sleep, rubbing her face against it again and again.

Her sweat-dampened skin was impossibly smooth.

Was… was this all because of me?

Ilene froze, regret instantly flooding her heart.

Roskaya was already fragile—telling her these things… maybe she had just been too selfish.

“…It’s fine, sister, don’t mind me.

I already have a solution.

I’m sorry…”

Ilene’s voice sank lower as she quickly pulled her hand back, drowning in self-blame.

She was still far from the five hundred thousand she needed.

If she couldn’t save that much before she died…

“Do I… disgust you?

Why are you apologizing?

That’s something I should say…

I’m completely useless…”

Her sudden withdrawal left Roskaya stunned.

She trembled, lowering her head, tears dripping down in disbelief… damn it, what was happening?

Ilene panicked, leaning closer again and putting her hand back on Roskaya’s face.

That finally calmed her sobbing, replaced instead with a burning heat.

Despite her gloomy nature, her body was so warm.

“No, you don’t disgust me.

How could I ever hate you, Roskaya?

You’re my sister.

Of course I should take care of you.”

Ilene whispered, feeling a twinge of helplessness.

She was so sensitive, so lacking in security…

If Ilene really wasn’t here someday, who would love her in her place?

Find her a boyfriend?

But what if she got deceived…

Ilene could tell that she would follow her partner with unwavering devotion.

“Your kindness… you share it with everyone, don’t you?

Even someone like me, who has nothing, still receives your warmth…

But the one who gives you safety… they’ll be the one who gets all of you…”

“So, sister, please accept this… okay?

I’ll find a way too…”

As Ilene’s thoughts spiraled, Roskaya slowly, almost shyly, pulled out a small owl keychain from who-knows-where.

It had green eyes, messy black fur, and looked a bit worn, but it was finely made… almost like her own likeness.

A very cute little thing.

And that wasn’t all.

She glanced around nervously before pulling out a wallet, taking out all the bills inside and pushing them into Ilene’s hands.

The amount was shocking—it was exactly five thousand two hundred and thirty-six yuan.

If it had just been five thousand, Ilene wouldn’t have been so stunned.

But for it to be such an oddly exact number… it could only mean this was every bit of her savings.

Carrying cash at school was dangerous.

Bullies loved targeting honest students and taking their money.

“I… I could have saved more…

But I wanted to buy you a gift…

So this is all that’s left…”

“Don’t leave me… sister…

I’m still working on it…

Uh… tonight, outside the orphanage, meet me there, okay?

Just don’t go yet…”

Nobody likes being the one constantly receiving.

Especially a sensitive girl like Roskaya.

And to think she worried about her this much…

Ilene didn’t know whether to smile or to stay silent.

It felt amazing to have someone care this much… but right now, she wished Roskaya didn’t.

Otherwise, it only added to her burden.

In the end, Ilene accepted the little owl keychain, carefully attaching it to her Makarov pistol.

She took the money too, planning to hand it over to Rebe early.

She could leave everything else behind, but never the pistol.

Who knew who might try to hurt her—she couldn’t afford to lower her guard.

She decided to treat it as her sister’s blessing.

Ilene felt her resolve harder than ever before.

She had to let her grow up safe and normal, to live on.

Even if it meant being shattered to pieces herself, she would not waver.

“Class is starting!”

Before the sisters could say anything more, the teacher opened the door and strode in.

Roskaya instantly shrank back, lowering her head.

The teacher, long accustomed to this, didn’t even look at her and simply began the lesson.