My Sister Stole My System after Rebirth and It Killed Her

The dining table was covered with all kinds of shrimp dishes.

My mom linked her arm through mine affectionately. “Jana, you must be tired after a full day of studying, right? Look, I made your favorite shrimp just for you!”

She didn’t know that shrimp had been my favorite when I was little.

I hadn’t touched it in years.

I picked the shrimp off my plate. “Mom, I’m allergic to shrimp.”

She froze for a moment, then suddenly seemed to remember something, her expression turning awkward.

“Right! Look at me, I’ve gotten so muddled—I forgot you suddenly developed a shrimp allergy when you were eight and even ended up in the hospital…”

“It was nine,” I corrected.

The smiles on my parents’ faces became even more strained.

At this age in my previous life, I would have felt hurt.

But after living through it once, I no longer felt anything over their favoritism.

Yuna and I were twins. She was born before me but weighed just over four pounds.

I, the younger one, weighed a full six pounds.

She had always been frail and sickly, placed in an incubator right after birth, while I had been strong as a horse, perfectly healthy.

Some people said I took Yuna’s share of nutrients even before we were born.

So, my parents had always favored her.

In my memories growing up, I was always the one watching the three of them laugh happily together.

When I was eleven, I came home from school to an empty house.

I waited alone, hungry, until ten at night before my parents finally returned, bringing Yuna back with them, full of excitement.

She was holding a toy from an amusement park.

When she saw me, she let out a small “ah” and said, “Mom, we forgot to bring my sister.”

My chest tightened as I looked at my mom, hoping she would promise something, like taking me next time.

She barely spared me a glance before saying, irritation lacing her voice, “We have a kitchen. You’ve been home this whole time and didn’t even think to cook? Honestly, how thoughtless can you be?”

My dad sat on the couch like a king, legs crossed, silent.

From that moment on, I understood.

They never loved me.

So, I stopped expecting anything.

Later, I succeeded in my studies, achieved financial freedom, and became the child they proudly spoke of.

Yet they still doted on Yuna, who lived a life of reckless indulgence.

After I was stabbed to death, my soul drifted above and watched as my mom rushed into my bedroom.

Her eyes widened in panic as she asked my dad what to do.

My dad lit a cigarette, took a drag, and said in a low voice, “They look so alike anyway. If it comes down to it, let Yuna take Jana’s place and keep living.”

My mom hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. “Alright. We’ve already lost one daughter; there’s no way we’re losing the other too.”

Just like that, my death was quietly buried.

The three of them still went on to celebrate my birthday, laughing and enjoying themselves, as if I had never belonged in their lives at all.

With the table full of shrimp I couldn’t touch, my mom placed some vegetables onto my plate. “Here, Jana, eat more.”

“Mom, just say what you want to say.”

Beside me, Yuna gently tugged at my mom’s sleeve under the table.