My sister and I were twin hex maidens.

I was born rotten—killing, skinning, every evil thing there was to do, I'd done it.

But my sister was gentle by nature, kindhearted to her core. Three years ago, she married into the Sanchez family, the wealthiest house in the country.

I never imagined the next time I'd see her, she'd be carried back to the Blackthorn Highlands by an undertaker.

She was in a splintered coffin. Every fingernail torn off. Not a single patch of unbroken skin on her body.

Elias Mercer looked at me, and something like pity crossed his face.

“Before she died, Maureen Manning begged me to pass you a message. She said no matter what, don't go after the Sanchez family.”

“They're not the kind of people someone like us can afford to cross.”

I lowered my head, numb, staring at my sister's shattered body. My eyes burned red.

Elias sighed, turned to leave, muttering as he went.

“Such a shame. Such a good girl, tortured to death by Judith Henson.”

“I heard that husband of hers is marrying Judith next month……”

I lifted my eyes, slowly. My pupils flooded a vivid, demonic red.

So that was how they'd treated my sister.

On the day of Wilfred Sanchez and Judith Henson's wedding, I carried the coffin on my back all the way to the ceremony.

I dropped it on the ground and spoke, voice flat.

“There won't be any vows today.”

“First, you kneel to my sister.”

……

I hadn't spoken loudly, but every head in the room turned toward me.

A woman guest nearby laughed first.

“Who is that? Some hick from the middle of nowhere, showing up to Mr. Sanchez's wedding dressed like that.”

“No idea. Looks like she's from out of town. Look at those cloth shoes. God, how embarrassing.”

I looked down at my shoes.

Black cloth uppers, stitches tight and even, a small white camellia embroidered on each toe.

I'd kept this pair for three years. Today was the first time I'd worn them.

They were spotless. Not a speck of dirt.

Maureen made them for me. I could never bring myself to get them dirty.

Wilfred Sanchez frowned at me, his face full of impatience.

I knew that expression well.

I'd swallowed Maureen's lifebound hex, and fragments of her memories had passed into me.

The very first day she married into the Sanchez household, Judith Henson showed up.

Said her family had run into trouble and she needed somewhere to stay for a while.

Maureen smiled and agreed, then went and tidied a room for Judith herself.

Three days later, my sister came downstairs. Judith was waiting at the bottom of the staircase and stuck out her foot on purpose.

Maureen tumbled all the way down. Her forehead split open, blood running down the bridge of her nose.

Wilfred heard the commotion and came rushing out of his study, only to tear into my sister instead.

“Judith's health is fragile. Can't you watch where you're going? What if you'd knocked into her?”

Then there was the worst time. Judith's cat died. She broke down sobbing, pointed at Maureen, and said she'd used hexcraft to kill it.

Wilfred had my sister locked in the walk-in freezer. Three days. Three nights.

By the time she was nearly frozen to death, she'd raked the door apart with her bare hands. Nine of her ten fingers were shattered down to the bone.

She wept and told herself it was only because Wilfred pitied Judith. Once Judith got better, everything would be fine.

But Judith never got better.

Every time Wilfred showed Maureen the slightest bit of kindness, Judith collapsed. Coughing. Vomiting blood. Fainting. Always something new.

And every time, Wilfred found a fresh way to punish my sister, had people teach her to “behave” again and again.

Three years. That was how Maureen lived.

Wilfred's voice pulled me back from the memories. He was frowning, irritation plain on his face.

“Maureen Manning.”

“Today is mine and Judith's wedding. Cut the occult nonsense. You hauled a coffin in here—are you trying to upset Judith on purpose?”

“I already told you—marrying Judith is just granting her a dying wish. Why are you so petty?”

I narrowed my eyes and studied Wilfred Sanchez's face.

Three years ago, he'd been hunted down and had barely half a breath left in him by the time he stumbled into the Blackthorn Highlands.

It was my sister's kindness that saved him.

And it was his promises of forever that made her leave the Highlands to marry him.

Too bad Wilfred Sanchez was worse than my brood.

Even my brood knew to be grateful for the hand that fed them.

In just three years, he'd already forgotten his vow to protect her for the rest of his life.

What was truly laughable, though?

He couldn't even tell my face from hers. He'd mistaken me for my sister.

The moment the guests heard the name “Maureen Manning,” understanding dawned across their faces, and just as quickly, it curdled into contempt.

“Oh, so it's her. No wonder she looks so backwoods.”

“She's from some village in the Highlands, what did you expect? Apparently the Sanchez family barely let her out of the house for three years. Too embarrassed to be seen with her.”

So this was what my sister's three years had looked like. Mocked and humiliated like this.

And she'd never once told me.

Every letter she sent only said the same things over and over: stop killing, stop doing terrible things.

I hadn't even opened my mouth when Judith beat me to it—her tears spilling first, right on cue.

She dropped to her knees with a thud, choking on sobs.

“Sister Maureen, I'm so sorry.”

“I really didn't mean to steal Wilfred from you. But my health is so poor, and the doctors say I don't have much time left.”

“All I wanted was one thing. To marry Wilfred and wear a wedding dress, just once.”

“Sister Maureen, if you need to blame someone, blame me. Don't blame Wilfred. It's my fault. My life was never meant to last. I never should have loved him with the time I had left.”

Wilfred's whole face crumpled with pity. He gathered her into his arms, cooing at her like she might break.

“You've done nothing wrong. She's the one who's petty, always bullying you.”

I looked down at Judith, kneeling on the ground.

The hatred inside me hit its peak, and instead, I smiled.

“You say you're dying.”

“Then why aren't you dead yet?”

The guests lost it. Every voice in the room came down on me at once.

“How can you be so vicious? Miss Henson is on her knees apologizing to you!”

“Exactly! The woman is dying, and you can't spare an ounce of sympathy?”

“No wonder Mr. Sanchez doesn't want her. Absolutely vile!”

I didn't expect those two sentences to enrage Wilfred.

He charged toward me, and his palm cracked across my face so hard it echoed, his voice a roar.

“Maureen, have you had enough?!”

“Judith's been nothing but good to you! You ate well, dressed well, lived under the Sanchez roof—what exactly did we owe you? You want to make a scene, go do it somewhere else. Don't you dare embarrass us here!”

Eating well. Dressing well.

I looked down at the coffin.

My sister's face was bruised purple. Every strand of hair gone. Not a single inch of her body left unbroken.

I nearly laughed.

“Eating well? Dressing well?”

Wilfred's expression went colder, as though every last shred of patience had left him.

“Maureen, you're revolting right now. You know that?”

“Judith's health is fragile. Forget showing any consideration. You actually hauled a coffin to her wedding to cause a scene. What exactly are you trying to do, drive her to her death?”

Before I could open my mouth, Judith was already walking over with reddened eyes, gently tugging at Wilfred's sleeve.

“Wilfred, don't blame Sister Maureen……”

“Maybe she just wants you so badly she can't help herself. That's all this is.”

She lowered her head and wiped her tears as she spoke, her voice so thin it trembled.

“It's all my fault. I shouldn't be alive. I shouldn't have come back……”

Wilfred pulled her behind him immediately, one hand raised to point at me, his eyes full of undisguised disgust.

“Take a good look at her. Now look at yourself.”

“How has Judith ever wronged you? For three years she's given way to you at every turn, and you still won't stop?”

The guests piled on without missing a beat.

“Mr. Sanchez has the patience of a saint, keeping a woman like that around this long.”

“What do you expect? Village-bred, village-hearted. Vicious through and through.”

“I heard she keeps insects at home. Disgusting. Miss Henson deserves a medal for putting up with it.”

I stood there, the cold creeping into my fingertips inch by inch.

Sister Maureen never mentioned any of this in her letters.

All she ever wrote was— *Wallis, it's getting cold out. Bundle up. And stop running into the mountains barefoot.*

*Wallis, no more killing. Stop piling up that kind of karmic debt. You need to leave yourself some mercy for the road ahead.*

My ears twitched, picking up two servers whispering in the service corridor.

“Hey, did you see her? That's the lawful wife right there.”

“I saw. God, it's awful. I heard last winter they ripped her hair out by the fistful, nearly tore the scalp right off.”

“Didn't she bring it on herself? The housekeeper said she stole Miss Henson's necklace and tried to hex her.”

“Stole nothing. A friend of mine works at the Sanchez estate. Said the necklace turned up in Miss Henson's own makeup case. They just pinned it on the wife anyway……”

The other one shushed him fast.

“Shut up. You want to get fired? Last time one of the housemaids said one fair word for her, she was out the next morning.”

My eyelid twitched.

Hair ripped out.

The necklace.

A maid dismissed.

None of this was in the letters my sister sent me.

Wilfred saw I wasn't speaking and took my silence for fear. His tone only hardened.

“Apologize to Judith. Now.”

“And get that coffin out of here. You're contaminating the venue.”

He paused, then added under his breath, like he was granting charity.

“For the sake of having been married, I'll pretend today never happened.”

For the sake of having been married.

I stared at him. I genuinely wanted to know how he said those words with a clean conscience.

That was when the lifebound hex tucked inside my sleeve burned faintly hot.

Residual hex-trace from my sister, reacting on instinct.

I followed that faint pull and looked toward the bridal suite on the second floor.

The door was half-open.

Through the gap, a young maid was being dragged inside by her hair, sobbing and begging：

“It really wasn't me who let Maureen out of the basement! I did everything you told me! I never once brought her food or water. I don't know how she got out!”

Then Judith's assistant laughed, cold and sharp：

“Then how the hell did she get from the basement to this wedding? You tell me that.”

“Miss Henson told you to starve her to death!”

The crying upstairs cut off. All that was left was a single dull crack—like a palm knocking someone flat to the floor.

The maid was innocent.

My sister had not survived that basement.

All that came back to the Blackthorn Highlands was a corpse, carried home by a kindhearted undertaker.

I stood downstairs, every inch of me drawing tighter with each breath.

Wilfred didn't notice. He was busy straightening Judith's veil, his voice clipped with impatience.

“Maureen.”

“I'll say it one last time. Apologize.”

I raised my eyes, slow, and fixed them on Judith standing behind him.

She looked back at me over Wilfred's shoulder, and for one unguarded instant the triumph in her eyes slipped loose before she could reel it back in—quick as a snake's tongue, there and gone.

And then I understood why my sister had refused, even on her deathbed, to let me come.

Not because she was afraid I'd suffer.

Because she was afraid that once I saw all of this, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from turning this wedding into a real wake.