How Can Translated Japanese Novels Change A Reader’S View Of Family?

My mom calls me on Friday. "Don't forget about tomorrow's family dinner. Cody loves shrimps, so you should buy more of those at the seafood market in the southern district. "Lexi loves lamb chops. Go take a look in the eastern district for them. Also, don't forget to buy the imported strawberries. Noah loves them a lot." I say yes to each and every request Mom makes. But as soon as I end the call, I receive a text on the family group chat. "I've already given Eileen a list of our favorite foods. It's tough for you to earn money these days, so you shouldn't buy anything." One second later, that message is deleted. Still, I'm flabbergasted by what I just read. I've been married for two years. Every Saturday throughout those years, I'm the one paying and organizing the family dinner of the week. I thought there's no need to be so petty when it comes to family. But it seems that they've already viewed me as the outsider a long time ago. In that case, I won't be attending the family dinner anymore.

I was the real daughter of the Sinclair family, yet I was the one abandoned when their fake daughter and I were kidnapped and taken to the top of a building. They were given a choice between the two of us, and they chose to save the fake daughter, letting me be pushed off from the eighteenth-floor balcony. Even though I survived, I was completely disappointed in them. Then, their attitudes changed overnight. My parents, who despised me, started asking me about my likes and dislikes. My brother who wished me dead, started suddenly giving me precious jewelry. Even my fiancé, who always claimed I was nothing compared to the fake daughter, started to prepare for our wedding. To say I was confused was an understatement.

Our family is planning a ski trip at a luxury resort. However, my mother gives my snow-view room to my adoptive sister and makes me, her biological daughter, stay in the storage room. I'm about to protest when my father and brother accuse me of being selfish. "We've always given Madie the best of everything; she won't be able to sleep in any other room." "Madie is our family—she's the one who's lived with us this whole time. We're a family, so we have to stay together." I'm the one who shares their blood, yet they consider me an outsider. If that's the case, they can go on vacation without me. I board a cruise and travel the world for a month without ever going home. That's when they panic.

My sister was the golden child, the pride of our family, but she had a rare blood disorder that required treatments costing thousands every month. To keep her alive, I became her personal blood donor, working nonstop to pay for her care and delivering food all day and night. But one day, she nearly died from hemorrhaging after trying to abort a pregnancy. That’s when I learned the child she was carrying belonged to my boyfriend. When I confronted him, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he dragged me to the operating table himself. “You were born to be her blood bank. Dying for her? It’s the best thing you’ll ever do.” I was left there, bleeding out, my life slipping away with every drop. But as death closed in, something changed. The people who once hoped I’d disappear—the ones who used me, betrayed me—they all began to unravel, losing their insanity.

When I was discharged from the psychiatric hospital, my brother and sister-in-law dropped everything to personally pick me up. Even my nephew, who had just finished his college entrance exams, arrived with a box of carrot cake he had waited in line all day to buy. His warm smile was the picture of innocence. “Auntie, congratulations on your discharge. With me here, you’ll never feel lonely again.” To outsiders, we were the perfect family—envied by all and even awarded the title of a local model family. But behind the facade of family bliss lay a very different story. On the very day my brother transferred the last of the family properties to me, I went live on social media. In front of an audience that idolized my so-called perfect family, I boasted about my "accomplishments." I conned my nephew into paying for a spot at an elite school, duped my sister-in-law into stepping into a scandalous club, and tricked my brother into losing everything he had worked for. “My brother has treated me with nothing but kindness. And I can only repay his kindness with betrayal.”

[The story about my son cutting ties with us is all an act. If I hadn’t done that, there’s no way my daughter would have willingly handed over the money!] During the long holiday weekend, I was killing time at my desk when I randomly clicked on a Reddit post. Maybe it was because I also had a younger brother who had cut ties with the family. The night he slammed the door and left, my parents seemed to age ten years overnight. From that day on, I became their only source of support. Every month, I send them five hundred dollars for living expenses. Even when I wasn’t feeling well, I forced myself to work. Meanwhile, the post kept updating. [I raised her for over ten years. What's wrong with spending some of her money? Her brother is still short of fifty thousand dollars for the down payment on his house. We need the money before the holiday ends.] I wanted to keep reading, but my manager called me into a meeting. That evening, while we were having dinner, Mom spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “Your father and I need to discuss something with you, sweetheart…” My heart skipped a beat. For some reason, the last line from that post flashed through my mind. [I'll just tell her the business is in debt and that we need her money. She's always been a good child. She'll surely do what I ask.] “Mom… you and Dad aren’t in debt, are you?”