With a low groan, a young man forced his eyes open at the sound of the one voice he hated most in the world.
"What are you staring at?" barked a man in his late forties. His big stomach rose with every breath, pressing against a too-tight white shirt stuffed awkwardly into his pants.
The oversize belt bit into his gut like it was losing a fight. As he moved, a thick gold chain bounced against his chest, clinking with every step—like it wanted just as much attention as he did.
Before the young man could reply, a hard kick landed in his stomach. The impact sent him to his knees, coughing as pain shot through his side and the air escaped his lungs
Fighting back wasn't the issue. Strength wasn't the problem. The real reason he didn't resist was fear. Not for himself, but for the people he cared about.
Looking up, Ken met a pair of irritated brown eyes—Robert's.
The man punishing him wasn't just his adoptive uncle, but also his boss, the one who made every day feel like a living hell.
"Didn't I tell you to get the money? And you show up with nothing? They fucking owe us ten grand!"
A slap followed before he could answer, snapping his head sideways.
Blood slid down his lips, but no tears followed. This kind of beating was a routine.
"I'm sorry, Uncle. They said they had to pay hospital bills, so—"
Another slap cut him off mid-sentence.
"Are you stupid? Why would I care? They owe me, and I want my money! Did I tell them to wait when they came begging for help to save their son in the hospital? No—I didn't."
Ken stopped trying to explain. Nothing he said ever mattered. He shut his eyes and braced himself.
"Stupid. No wonder your parents dumped you," Robert spat, his saliva landing just inches away.
"I'm sorry for being stupid," he swallowed what little pride he had—though there wasn't much to begin with.
"Idiot. If you weren't still useful, I would've sold your organs already," Robert sneered, then walked off.
Ken clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to keep the rage inside from spilling out. He wanted so badly to beat Robert down—to kill him.
'Calm down…'
Slowly, his breathing became more stable.
He stood and headed for the cramped bathroom.
The mirror reflected a worn-out face. Cheeks slightly sunken. Pale skin. Dark circles clinging to his eyes like reminders of too many sleepless nights.
Those shadows somehow matched his jet-black hair and eyes—traits passed down from his mother. The overall shape of his face came from his father.
Thinking of them didn't bring warmth. Just bitterness.
They didn't vanished for noble reasons. They were debt-ridden gamblers who blew through their own inheritance.
When he was ten, they left him behind with Robert, saying they would return with the money.
They didn't. Their son became a bargaining chip they tossed when they ran out of cash.
Not like things were any better when they were around. Good memories were rare—almost nonexistent.
His father usually came home drunk, slurring and stumbling through the door.
And his mother… when no one else was around, she would let other men touch her like it was nothing. Told him to stay in the living room and watch TV like he didn't exist.
Back then, he didn't understand much. But remembering it now turned him sick.
"Brother Ken…"
A soft voice drifted from behind.
In the mirror's reflection, he saw a girl with soft-looking skin and pink lips.
It was Nathalie, wearing a thin white tank top that clung to her shoulder. Most of her white armpits were exposed, and the light fabric did little to hide the pink bra underneath—its straps faintly visible through the cloth.
Any other guy would've loved the view—she was beautiful, no doubt about it. But he didn't have time for that right now.
"Did Uncle beat you again?" she inquired.
"I'm used to it. And don't just walk into my room like that. I don't want him getting the wrong idea."
She was the daughter of Robert's third wife. Even though they were technically family, Robert had no problem hurting anyone under his roof, wife included.
"But I love you," she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
"Stop it, Nathalie. I've told you already—I see only you as a little sister."
"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking as tears soaked the back of his shirt. "You promised me. You said you loved me and that we'd get married one day. Was that a lie?"
He didn't answer right away.
It was just a childish promise—something said during a time when both of them were broken and desperate for comfort. But he outgrown that already.
"Look… this isn't going to work. If Robert finds out, he'll kill me. And what about you? Are you really going to throw everything away for someone like me?"
Unlike him, she went to school. She had friends. People admired her for her looks and personality. From his view, her feelings made no sense.
"Yes!" she cried, shaking her head. "I don't care about them. You're the only one I want. Let's just leave. I'm coming with you."
The words made his heart pound. He had seen what Robert did to traitors. He once gutted a man and tossed the body into the ocean.
Despite the lack of romantic feelings, he still cared about her safety—like a real brother would.
He tried to push her away, but she held on tighter.
"Just leave me alone," he muttered, hoping it would be enough to make her stop.
"No, I won't let go! Not until you say it—that you love me too. Just like you always used to!" Her grip tightened. She was too stubborn to listen.
"I already told you. That was when we were kids. Don't make this harder than it already is."