They Called Me A Defective Copy Of My Sister Chapter 03

They Called Me A Defective Copy Of My Sister Chapter 03

That was close. I almost forgot he was the wrong one.

I tilted my face up and studied him in the moonlight. The resemblance was almost cruel.

Tonight especially — even his voice, his expressions, were unnervingly close. The strange part was, I’d only ever met the real one twice.

The first time, I was locked in a storage room — airless, barely wide enough to turn around — and my lungs forgot how to work. Panic attack. Full hyperventilation.

Some guy woke up to the sound of me falling apart, swore under his breath, and dragged himself out of a pile of flattened boxes, his filthy tail trailing behind him.

He pressed his scarred hand over my mouth and nose, pulled me against his chest, and made me match his heartbeat until my lungs remembered the rhythm. When I could finally breathe again, I asked for his name.

He just grinned — crooked, full of himself — and gave me the most insufferable answer possible.

“I don’t do names. Ruins the mystery.”

The second time was graduation day. Ruby dragged me to an underground fighting ring in Ravenswood, and there he was — inside a steel octagon still slick with someone else’s blood.

The crowd was screaming a name.

“07.”

Was that all he was — a number? I stood frozen against the cage wall, and his gaze found mine. Cold. Crimson.

Something flickered in his eyes — recognition, maybe — and it cost him. The hyena across the cage was drugged out of its mind, and it lunged the second he lost focus. Teeth sank in and ripped a chunk clean off.

I could see bone through the blood and torn muscle. The manager beside me didn’t even flinch — he was too busy selling the spectacle.

“07 never loses. You could tear him apart, rip his guts out — as long as he’s still breathing, he’ll find a way to win.”

“Put your money on 07, sweetheart. Easiest bet you’ll ever make.”

My voice came out raw, barely cutting through the noise.

“How much?”

“Whatever you want. Sky’s the limit.”

“I’m asking how much it costs to buy him out!”

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking at the ground. I was looking that man dead in the eye, and something in my expression must have scared him.

The manager blinked at me, then looked — really looked — at how young I was. A slow, amused grin spread across his face.

“Sweetheart, you’re not the first woman who wanted to take him home. Rich ones, too. They’ve thrown fortunes at me, and he’s still right where he is.”

“He tried to run once. Runaways don’t get second chances — they fight until they die.”

Ruby had been standing beside me, arms folded, saying nothing. Now she laughed — sharp, dismissive.

“Oh, cut the crap. You get off on scaring kids? ‘Fight until they die’ — give me a break.”

“With enough money, you people will do anything. We both know that.”

She was right.

“Name your price.” I didn’t blink.

The manager looked at my face and sighed, then threw out a number so high it could only be a punishment. He knew I couldn’t pay it. So did I.

But when she saw me crying — actually crying, not the performative kind — Ruby didn’t laugh. For once. She pressed her lips together, thinking, and held out a card.

“You’ve never wanted anything this badly. Not once in our whole lives.”

The way she looked at me — there was pity in it, and underneath that, something that might have been guilt.

“I won the mental energy championship. The prize money hits this account in two months.” She paused. “Call it… what I owe you.”

“Owed me for what? For all the years our parents poured everything into her and pretended I didn’t exist?”

I didn’t have words for what I felt. My voice came out thick and small.

“Thank you, Ruby.”