Chapter 3My Parents Have Double Standards

Mom's face instantly drained of color.

Dad froze for a split second before quickly putting on a look of surprise.

"Huh? How could this happen? I distinctly remember putting one red stick and one white stick in there!"

I said nothing. I simply watched the two of them put on their performance as if no one else were in the room.

A few seconds later, Dad suddenly exclaimed, "Ahh!"

He crouched down as if picking something up from the floor.

"It fell out. That explains it!"

When he stood upright again, there was a red stick in his hand.

It was the first red stick I had ever seen.

It was bright crimson from end to end and as vivid as fresh blood.

Jenny's eyes lit up as if she'd discovered something extraordinary. She held the red stick up and waved it in front of me.

"See, Christina? There is a red stick! Who said there wasn't?"

The house fell silent. The only sound was the steady ticking of the old wall clock.

I took the red stick from her and examined it in my palm.

I then quietly placed it back into the wooden tube.

Now, with one red stick and one white stick inside, it was finally fair.

I looked up at Dad's horrified expression and Mom's uneasy expression.

Softly, I asked, "Dad, Mom, can we draw lots now?"

Mom opened her mouth but couldn't find any words.

Dad's gaze turned dull. He stared at the wooden tube in my hands before looking at me.

Only after a long silence did he start speaking. "Go ahead."

"Jenny should draw first." I set the wooden tube in the center of the table. "She's always been lucky. Maybe she'll draw the red stick right away."

The smile on Jenny's face stiffened. She glanced helplessly at Mom.

Mom started to speak, but I beat her to it.

"However, Jenny's health isn't good, and she can't handle hardship. If she ends up drawing the white stick, I'll go to the countryside in her place. I'm her older sister anyway."

The moment I said that, Dad, Mom, and Jenny all brightened up.

But seeing me continue to watch her, Jenny's face turned pale. Forcing a smile, she said, "Christina, what are you talking about? Our family has always been fair. Whatever you draw is what you get."

"Really?" I smiled. "Then that's perfect. Go ahead."

Jenny reached into the wooden tube. She hesitated. Her slender fingers hovered over the opening for what felt like forever before finally plunging inside. She drew out a stick.

She didn't dare look immediately. Covering the tip with her palm, she slowly peeked through a tiny gap.

Then, the color drained completely from her face.

It was white.

It was as if the white tip of the stick stabbed her right in the eyes. She shot to her feet, and her chair scraped harshly across the concrete floor.

"Why is it white? That's impossible!"

She turned to face Dad, then Mom, and her voice broke into sobs. "Dad! Mom! I'm not going to the countryside!"

"Jenny!" Dad cut her off sharply. His expression was darker than ever.

Being sent to the countryside was supposed to be an honorable thing. Everyone knew how miserable it would be, but no one dared say it out loud.

Mom hurried to Jenny's side. She gently patted Jenny's back while glancing at me uneasily.

"Christina, look. Your sister, she–"

"A white stick is a white stick," I cut her off calmly. "Mom, Jenny just said it herself. Our family is the fairest. It's been three years. Surely it's finally my turn to draw a red stick."

I reached into the wooden tube and pulled out the remaining stick.

It was red.

It was the color of blood.

It almost felt like it was mocking me for the past three years of my life.

I placed it gently on the table and slid it toward Dad. "Dad, I drew the red stick. According to the rules, I get to stay in the city and start work. Jenny goes to the countryside."

I paused before looking at Mom's pale face and Jenny's tear-filled eyes.

"Jenny's too frail to handle that kind of hardship. That's okay. I'll inform the City Hall that I'll go instead. That way–"

I let the sentence hang for a moment.

"You won't have to secretly replace both sticks with white ones just to fool me."

Mom looked up in shock. "C-Christina, we never did that!

"Your father just accidentally dropped one–"

"Mom, I heard everything last night.

"For three years, every single draw ended with me getting the white stick. If I'd used my brain even a little, I would've realized something was wrong."

I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table. "Dad, Mom, for those 47 drawings over the past three years, I believed every one of them. I thought I was simply unlucky. It turns out you just never wanted me to have a better life.

"Since the beginning, this family never truly wanted me.

"If that's the case, then I don't want this family either."