Horsemanship Practice (Part 2)

“What are you thinking about, Big Sister?”

Eliot's voice suddenly rang out.

I snapped back from my memories and realized he had already stopped, pulling on the reins to bring Azure Mist to a walk. I also noticed that I had slowed down at some point without realizing it.

“It's nothing.”

“Just now... did you think I did something wrong, Big Sister? You kept staring at me.”

His voice was very soft, and he looked restless.

“What's wrong with looking at you? Am I not allowed to look?” I replied, trying to ease his anxiety.

“No... that's not what I meant...”

He lowered his head, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the reins.

I then averted my gaze and continued practicing.

Although my personality was indeed unpleasant, to make myself less detestable—in other words, to ensure that “my terrible personality is backed up by actual capability”—I worked hard to make my own talents outstanding. This would at least reduce the sense of malice.

The world's will wouldn't stop me from becoming excellent, since this wasn't a plotline that directly altered a character's attitude.

So, when it came to horse riding, I could leave my little brother miles behind. Having such pride was actually justified.

Though I personally didn't want to be arrogant about my abilities; I was a very humble person.

I quickly left him behind, adopting a playful, teasing tone:

“When will you ever catch up to me?”

My little brother's expression became subtle as he watched my retreating figure on horseback, not knowing what to think, while Gray-gray swished its tail in a proud, haughty manner.

After a few laps, we began practicing jumps.

Several low poles were set up in the center of the arena, less than half a meter high, meant for beginners.

Gray-gray lightly leaped over the first pole. The moment it landed, I leaned my body slightly forward to maintain my balance.

Then came the second, and the third.

Gray-gray's rhythm was excellent, stepping exactly where I wanted it to with every stride.

The sound of Azure Mist's hooves came from behind me.

I glanced back. Eliot was approaching the first jump. His posture was fine, and his speed was fine, but Azure Mist's stride was off.

The takeoff point was too close.

Azure Mist's front hooves clipped the pole. The wooden bar wobbled but didn't fall, but the horse itself was startled, veering sharply to the side upon landing.

Immediately, Eliot's body tilted.

I saw his right hand desperately gripping the reins while his left hand clawed at the air. His knees clamped tightly against the saddle, but his body had already slipped past the horse's centerline.

Azure Mist bucked again, frightened by the unstable weight on its back, and Eliot slid off.

Rough.

He crashed onto the sandy ground, landing on his side. His right elbow hit first, followed by his shoulder.

To be honest, his whole body slid a short distance across the sand before coming to a stop.

Azure Mist ran a few paces before stopping, turning its head to look blankly at its master.

The horsemanship tutor was in a panic, as were the surrounding servants. However, even though I was one of the youngest here, the moment I raised my hand, they all froze in their tracks.

I understood that this was also an opportunity to alter the plot.

Even if it was just a tiny bit, I had to try.

I pulled on the reins to stop Gray-gray, dismounted, and quickly walked over.

Eliot was picking himself up from the ground, his right hand clutching his left elbow, his face covered in sand. A hole had been torn in the knee of his riding breeches, with a hint of red seeping through.

“Where did you hurt yourself?” I asked, arriving in front of him.

“I-I'm fine...”

He stood up bitterly, brushing the sand off his clothes.

His left elbow was bleeding.

Sand and blood were mixed together, looking filthy.

Although his eyes were red, he bit his lip and didn't cry.

“Fine?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You fell off your horse, scraped your knee, and your elbow is bleeding, yet you say you're fine?”

“...” He lowered his head.

“So stupid,” I said. “You've been practicing for a month and you still fell. Even Azure Mist is smarter than you; at least it knows to steady itself after jumping an obstacle.”

The horsemanship tutor wiped away sweat nearby, thinking to himself that not everyone possessed the talent of the young lady, Loris. Falling after practicing for only a month was completely normal.

Eliot pursed his lips even tighter.

His fingers gripped the hem of his clothes, his knuckles turning white. I saw his Adam's apple bob, as if he were swallowing something down. Perhaps it was tears, perhaps grievance, or perhaps anger.

“I'm sorry...”

His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

“What's the use of saying sorry?” I crossed my arms. “In this state, how are you going to compete next year? Are you going to go up there just to embarrass the Aldheim family?”

He didn't speak, keeping his head down as his shoulders trembled slightly. A dark droplet fell onto the sand, followed by a second.

“...Why are you crying?” I felt a bit awkward. Was the pressure I was applying really that immense?

My original intention was to encourage him.

“I-I'm not crying...”

He raised his arm, using his sleeve to messily wipe his eyes.

The sand rubbed against his face, leaving light red streaks.

I looked at him. The sun was scorching, and his forehead was drenched in sweat, with wet strands of silver hair clinging to it. The wound on his knee was still bleeding, trickling down his calf and staining his white riding breeches red.

There was no helping it. I would ignore the heavy hand of fate for now; I should probably just try to take the next step directly.

“...Come with me.”

Helplessly, I turned and walked toward the resting area at the edge of the arena. Eliot froze for a moment, then limped after me.

The resting area had a row of wooden benches sheltered by a canopy. I had Eliot sit down, then rummaged through the tack box to find a first-aid kit, which contained bandages, ointment, and a small bottle of strong spirits for disinfection.

Under the direction of my gaze, the servants remained standing guard, not stepping in.

“Hold out your hand.”

He held out his left hand. A large patch of skin had been scraped off the outside of his elbow, with sand embedded in the wound. The mixture of blood and sand looked horrific.

“This will sting a bit.”

I opened the bottle of spirits and poured it onto a clean piece of gauze.

“Bear with it.”

The moment the gauze touched the wound, Eliot flinched violently.

“Ngh—!”

“Don't move.”

I held down his wrist. As the spirits seeped into the wound, his arm trembled, his fingers curling tightly as his nails dug into his palm.

To be frank, this was medical treatment, but the painful process could technically count as abuse. Was that why the world's will didn't pop up a warning message?

My little brother didn't pull his hand back either. This was because we had been through this before, probably not long after I had first transmigrated here.

He had cut his finger while practicing swordsmanship. When I went to apply medicine to it, he instinctively pulled his hand back. The world's will then judged that I had met with "resistance" and forced me to slap him.

Although I found it incredibly hard to bear, my little brother must have had a mental brand of “disobeying Big Sister means getting slapped” stamped into his mind.

Since then, he had never shown even the slightest hint of resistance in front of me.

“...There, all done.”

I cleaned the wound, applied the ointment, and wrapped it with a bandage. Then came his knee. The knee was scraped even worse, with the riding breeches torn open and the fabric stuck to the wound.

I carefully peeled the fabric away, causing Eliot to draw in a sharp breath.

“Who told you to fall?” I quickly added a few biting remarks.

“...Azure Mist's stride was off.”

“Can't you adjust if its stride is off? Are the reins just for show?”

“I... I didn't have enough time...”

“Not having enough time means you haven't practiced enough.” I cleaned the sand from his knee. “Starting tomorrow, you will practice jumps for an extra hour every day.”

“...Yes.”

His voice was muffled.

I wrapped his knee with a bandage as well, winding the white cloth around and around before tying a small knot.

Not too tight, not too loose—just right.

I wiped my sweat in relief. Whew. Little brother, I'm actually treating you really well, aren't I? It's just that heaven's will is forcing me to manipulate you.

“Alright.”

I stood up, putting the first-aid kit back. I even kindly added—though speaking in a disdainful tone:

“Let's stop here for today. Go back and rest.”

“...Thank you, Big Sister.”

The horsemanship tutor opened his mouth as if to say something but ultimately chose to pretend he hadn't seen anything, bowing respectfully at a thirty-degree angle.

My little brother stood up and limped toward the exit of the arena with his head down.

After a few steps, he stopped.

“Big Sister.”

“Mm.”

“My competition... will you really come to watch?”

His back looked so small. He was a ten-year-old boy, thin, with his silver hair slightly messed up by the wind.

The white bandage on his right leg peeked out from the tear in his riding breeches, looking exceptionally conspicuous in the sunlight.

I didn't know what his purpose was in asking this, especially since he was basically being mistreated.

“...We'll see,” I said.

He nodded, then continued walking forward.

What followed was a rather dull horsemanship practice—me practicing alone.

...

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Reviewing today's events, my little brother's question about whether I would come to watch the horsemanship competition was quite intriguing. It seemed like he didn't actually hate me?

Otherwise, he wouldn't have shown that sense of hoping to be praised.

“So stupid,” “embarrassing,” “haven't practiced enough”—these were all things the original owner would say. It seemed this aligned with the rules of the world's will, which was why not a single warning had been triggered.

But I had disinfected the wound, applied ointment, and properly wrapped it in bandages. Although it was painful, it was still a caring gesture, even as I continued to scold him verbally...

Mm, I suppose I managed to build a little something.

Come to think of it, there seemed to be a direction I could break through: that classic duplicitous tsundere archetype? A sharp tongue but a soft heart. If I played it like that, maybe I could redeem myself from being a villainess.

But I figured this approach might not necessarily succeed...

After all, I could only get away with this because he was my younger brother. For other characters, the judgment would probably be much stricter.

In any case, when he left, the knot on his knee had been tied so neatly, which made me feel a bit more at ease.

As long as things didn't turn out like they did in the original story.

In the original work, Eliot von Aldheim was a key character. Late in the game, when Loris's crimes were exposed one by one, Eliot stepped forward.

However, it wasn't to defend his older sister, but to testify against her.

“Big Sister has bullied me ever since we were children,” he said. “She took my things, tore up my picture books, and pushed me into the pool. She called me useless and said I didn't deserve the Aldheim name. She never once treated me as her brother.”

His testimony was one of the final straws that broke Loris. Furthermore, he exposed all the dirty secrets of the family, which naturally made the complicit Loris's crimes even more severe.

And so, Loris died, pierced through the heart by a sword.

...I really don't want to die.

But I've been trying to change Eliot's attitude toward me all this time, so hopefully, it will bear fruit.

End of thoughts.

I closed my eyes.

Zzz—and just like that, I fell fast asleep.

...

Meanwhile, at the other end of the manor.

Eliot lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The wound on his knee throbbed slightly. The bandage was wrapped tightly, but it wasn't uncomfortable because the ointment had been applied evenly, feeling cool and soothing.

He couldn't help but recall the events of the day.

Big Sister had scolded him again, as she always did. Yet those words—“so stupid,” “embarrassing”—had been spoken in her crisp, pleasant voice, causing them to echo in his mind without him even realizing it.

Over the past year, he had observed every little detail about his sister and compared them.

In the past, when Big Sister scolded him, her eyes would be filled with utter disgust.

Now, when Big Sister scolded him, there wasn't nearly as much disgust in her expression. She simply nagged and berated him verbally, and he didn't quite understand what that meant.

For instance, when he used to fall, Big Sister would only stand aside and laugh. “Serves you right,” “How pathetic,” “You've completely disgraced the Aldheim name”—and then she would turn and leave.

He could only pick himself up.

But now, although she still scolded him, her actions showed that she was treating his wounds, which was very kind.

Big Sister had probably learned something deeper.

That was likely why she had changed the way she treated him.

The etiquette lessons he had taken since the age of six taught him how to interact with others. The most important thing in a family was hierarchy and humility; one must never conflict with elders. As Loris was his older sister, he needed to respect and obey her instructions, which Eliot had always kept firmly in mind.

This was one of the noble etiquettes and virtues.

Eliot had originally planned to take a bath today, but he couldn't bring himself to remove the bandage on his leg. Their mother had never paid any attention to either of them; the warmth his sister gave him was one of his few experiences of familial affection.

He was only nine, but due to his education, he already understood many things. Right now, he had only one thought: what was Big Sister really thinking?

He couldn't tell if she was a good sister or a bad sister.

He really couldn't tell.

However, if he won the horsemanship competition and received her praise... then she would definitely be a good sister.

Because if she were a bad sister, she would be jealous of the glory he obtained.

Yes, it had to be that way.

Speaking of which, he had also heard from his friends about how their older sisters treated them. For example, the sister from Count Asser's family would hold her brother's hand and stroll through the garden... If only Big Sister would take care of him like that.

And the sister from Marquis Lind's family would make snacks for her brother, even though they tasted terrible.

Eliot enviously pulled the blanket over his head.

Then he slowly lowered it again.

Actually, there was no need to be envious.

After all, when Big Sister knelt on the ground to wrap his knee with bandages, the sunlight shone on her blonde hair. Her drill twin-tails hung down, their tips brushing against his calf, tickling him.

Eliot closed his eyes with a pleasant feeling.

That night, he had a dream.

In the dream, he was still in the arena.

He fell off Azure Mist's back, crashing onto the sand.

His knee was scraped, and his elbow was bleeding.

Then Big Sister walked over. In the dream, she didn't scold him. She knelt down, reached out, and gently placed her hand on his head.

“It's alright now,” she said. “Big Sister is here.”

Eliot snapped his eyes open. The ceiling, and the moonlight leaking through the gaps in the curtains, drew a thin silver line across the floor.

He sat up, feeling dazed and lost.

The sensation from the dream seemed to linger on the crown of his head.

It was very light, very warm. He raised his hand and touched his head, but there was nothing there.

“...Mother...” Eliot whispered. His mother's face, which had grown blurry in his memory, gradually became clear. He had been patted on the head like that when he was a child. His voice was as soft as if he were reciting a secret that could not be spoken aloud.

No one answered, and the moonlight silently fell upon the floor.

...

The next morning.

When Eliot appeared at the arena, the bandage on his knee had not been removed. He had changed into a new pair of riding breeches, but a small section of the white bandage peeked out from under his pant leg.

“You're here?”

Loris stood beside Gray-gray without turning her head. Her haughty demeanor paired with her petite frame was quite striking.

“Today we practice jumps,” his sister said in a stiff voice. “Make up for yesterday's failure today.”

“...Yes.”

Eliot walked toward Azure Mist and mounted the horse.

His movements were swifter than yesterday's, and the bandage on his leg was still there, the knot tied neatly, completely untouched.

Loris silently knit her brows.

“...Let's begin,” she announced after a moment of snapping back to reality.

“Yes!”

Hooves trod upon the sand.

The sunlight was beautiful, and the October wind blew from afar, carrying the scent of maple leaves. Loris rode half a horse-length behind, watching him.

He held the reins properly, and the white bandage on his right leg was exceptionally conspicuous in the sunlight.

(Voiceover: That afternoon, Eliot met his father in the corridor. The Duke of Aldheim had just returned from the Royal Capital, looking travel-worn, with two attendants carrying documents following behind him. He stopped upon seeing Eliot.

“What happened to your knee?”

“I fell while practicing riding.”

“...Mm.”

The Duke nodded and continued forward. He did not ask if it hurt, nor did he look at the wound. Eliot stood in place, watching his father's figure disappear down the end of the corridor. He was already used to it. When was the last time he had seen his mother? She had simply said, “You've grown taller,” and left, not even remembering how old he was.

A massive manor, dozens of rooms, hundreds of servants, his father, his mother, his sister, and him.)