Chapter 1

On the day I graduated as the top student in the entire state, my parents threw a lavish celebration at a local banquet hall, inviting more than a hundred relatives and family friends.

However, the seat of honor at the head table did not belong to me. It belonged to my older brother, Ethan Smith.

A huge banner stretched across the room.

[Congratulations to Ethan, Our Amazing Son, for Raising the State's Top Student!]

Balancing a plate of food in my hands, I slipped into a seat by myself in the corner.

Meanwhile, everyone crowded around Ethan. They clinked glasses with him, posed for photos with him, and praised him for raising such an outstanding younger brother.

Before the party ended, our relatives handed their graduation cards and gifts to him instead of me. Some of the cards even contained cash, a reward for being such a 'devoted big brother'.

Ethan accepted every last one with an easygoing smile.

"I just kept him focused on his studies," he said modestly.

Just like that, every sacrifice I had made—waking up at four every morning, working through countless practice exams, and studying through one sleepless night after another—became part of his achievement instead of mine.

Later, I was awarded a $10,000 academic scholarship. My parents told me to transfer every last cent into Ethan's bank account.

"Your brother's leaving for Newvale City to study arts administration," my mother said. "Tuition fees and living expenses aren't cheap.

"Besides, you're majoring in education. You're going to be a teacher. You won't need nearly as much money."

"I have college tuition to pay too," I protested.

My mother slammed her fork onto the table.

"Do you have any idea how much we've spent raising you for the past eighteen years? And now you can't even help your brother with this little bit of money?"

That night, I packed my suitcase for move-in day.

As I was getting ready to leave, my father pulled my college acceptance letter from the drawer, glanced at it, and spoke as if my future had already been decided.

"After you graduate, come back and get a teaching job at a public school. Stay close to your brother. He'll need a family member nearby to look after him."

It was only then that I finally understood.

For the last eighteen years, they had never seen me as their son. I had only ever been the stepping stone they carefully laid beneath Ethan's feet.

Once the road had been paved…

Who would ever remember that the stone beneath it had once had its own dreams and desires?

Chapter 1

"Julian, crying and throwing a fit isn't effective communication. We've always tried to teach you how to solve your own problems, not argue over every little thing at home."

Mom adjusted the rimless glasses on the bridge of her nose. Her voice stayed perfectly flat.

She was a psychology researcher. For eighteen years, she had been an expert at using professional language to brush aside every hurt I had ever felt.

I stared at the silverware she had just slammed onto the table, searching her face for even the smallest hint of guilt.

There was nothing, only the same impatient look she wore whenever she faced an annoying research problem.

"That $10,000 was my scholarship money," I said, bunching up the hem of my shirt so tightly that my knuckles hurt. My voice shook from all the emotions I was forcing myself to hold back.

"I earned it. It didn't just fall out of the sky.

"My tuition, my housing, my living expenses... I was counting on that money. You transferred every cent to Ethan. How am I supposed to go to college now?"

Dad looked up from the economics journal he had been reading on the couch. The familiar superiority of a university professor filled his eyes.

"From an economic perspective," he said matter-of-factly, folding his hands beneath his chin, "this is simply an optimal allocation of resources.

“If we invest that $10,000 in you, the return is an ordinary salary after graduation. The marginal benefit is extremely low.

"However, if we invest it in your brother, we're investing in the future of a creative director with unlimited potential. As a member of this family, why can't you think about the bigger picture?"

His ridiculous logic hit me so hard I could not even find the words to reply.

Every late night, every hour I had spent studying, every callus earned from endless writing suddenly felt meaningless.

To my parents, none of it had ever been about my hard work. It was simply a set of numbers with a poor return on investment.

"But it's my money."

I repeated the same sentence stubbornly, like a broken record.

"You’re talking about what’s yours?" Mom stood up and picked up her glass of cold water. "You've eaten our food and lived under our roof your whole life. Consider that $10,000 repayment for the last eighteen years we spent raising you.

"I didn't even charge you interest. That's already more generosity than you deserve."

Just then, my older brother, Ethan Smith, wandered downstairs from his bedroom.

He was wearing a brand-new limited-edition designer loungewear set, casually spinning the latest high-end gaming console controller in his hand.

"Mom, Dad, don't be so hard on Julian." He walked over and patted my shoulder, looking every bit the caring older brother.

"Julian's gone to school in this little town his whole life. It's only natural that his world is pretty small. He has no idea how expensive studying abroad is.

"If it'll make him feel better, maybe I won't go to Francoria after all. I can just stay here and go to some community college."

I jerked his hand off my shoulder in disgust.

Ethan stumbled backward with the motion, bumping into the armrest of the couch. He let out a muffled grunt.

"Julian!" Dad shot to his feet, his face instantly darkening. "Your brother was defending you. Is this how you treat him in return?

"Is this how we raised you to respect your family?"

I did not answer. I just stood there quietly.

Watching Mom and Dad gather protectively around Ethan, I suddenly felt like I was the stranger who had wandered into someone else's home.

My eyes burned. They stung so badly I thought I might cry. However, I forced every tear back down.

"If he needs money, you can earn it yourselves or borrow it. What gives you the right to take mine?"

"Take?" Mom let out an icy laugh. She walked over and gently rubbed Ethan's arm as if he had been seriously hurt.

"Your brother has been frail since he was little. He can't handle too much pressure.

“You're different. You're healthy. You're stronger than he is.

"You should apply for student loans and pay them back yourself after you graduate. It'll teach you independence and make you take responsibility for your own life."

Independence?

They always wrapped their selfish favoritism in pretty words that sounded like life lessons.

"Student loans require a parent's signature." I looked at them, holding on to the last shred of hope I had left.

Dad glanced at me calmly, then sat back down on the couch and picked up his magazine again.

"You want our signature? Fine. But from today onward, we'll pretend we never raised you.

"Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, I'll be at the bank after taking Ethan to finish the paperwork for studying abroad.

“If you still want my signature, come find me there."

After saying that, they surrounded Ethan, fussing over him as if he had been badly injured, and disappeared into the master bedroom.

The last thing I saw before the door closed was someone switching off the living room light.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Using the moonlight spilling through the window, I crouched down and slowly picked up the scattered sheets of paper from the floor.

Every page was covered with the college budget I had carefully planned. Now, they were nothing more than useless scraps.

I walked back to the tiny storage room that served as my bedroom, a room without even a window.

I tucked my college acceptance letter into the very bottom of my backpack.

Eighteen years.

I should have understood long ago. In this family, the child who cried the loudest was the one who got what he wanted.

As for me?

I did not even have the right to feel hurt.

Chapter 2

The last two weeks before I left for Jubilee City to start college, the house was as lively as if the household were preparing for a lavish wedding.

Expensive packages arrived every day, piling up on the front porch like snowfall.

Ethan's room was stuffed to the brim with brand-new custom-tailored suits, limited-edition sneakers, the latest electronics, and every luxury item he could possibly want.

To scrape together enough money for my trip to college and my first month's living expenses, I found a night shift at a twenty-four-hour convenience store a few blocks from home.

Every night, I worked from 10 PM until 6 AM the next morning.

After five overnight shifts in a row, I came down with a high fever. My head felt like it was splitting open, and every bone in my body ached.

At 7 AM that morning, I dragged myself through my home’s front door.

Mom was in the living room, excitedly holding up an Armani cashmere overcoat.

"Ethan, winters in Parish are freezing. This one is expensive, but it'll keep you warm, and the cut suits you perfectly."

Dad sat nearby sipping his hand-brewed coffee, nodding in agreement.

"Appearance matters most. First impressions mean everything overseas. It's money well spent."

I leaned against the shoe cabinet as the room began spinning around me.

"Mom..." My voice came out hoarse. "I have a fever. Could you take me to the hospital?

“Or could you at least give me enough money to buy some fever medicine?"

I would not get paid until next month. At that moment, I did not even have ten dollars to my name.

The cheerful conversation stopped instantly.

Mom lowered the coat and looked at me, her brows knitting together.

"Julian, are you trying another attention-seeking stunt?"

She walked closer, studying me with the detached expression of a psychology expert.

"When people feel neglected, they often develop physical symptoms to gain sympathy. This is a classic case of regressive behavior."

I leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe.

"I wasn't lying. I really do have a fever. It's 102 degrees."

Dad set down his coffee cup, his voice carrying the unquestionable authority of a professor.

"A fever means your immune system is doing its job. You've always been healthy, so just give your body a few days to regulate itself.

"If you run to the hospital every time you get sick and take antibiotics, you'll only weaken your immune system.

“That's basic science."

Basic science.

Even their refusal to help their sick child sounded noble.

Ethan walked out wearing one of his new designer outfits, holding a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Julian, did you catch a cold? You look awful." He held the glass toward me with a look of concern.

"Here. Drink some orange juice. You need the vitamin C.

"I've got my visa appointment today, and Mom and Dad are coming with me, so we really don't have time to take care of you."

I stared at the orange juice. Suddenly, my stomach churned. A wave of nausea hit me so hard that I shoved his hand aside and stumbled toward the bathroom.

A sharp crash echoed through the house.

The glass hit the floor and shattered. Orange juice splashed all over Ethan's brand-new clothes.

"My clothes!" Ethan cried.

The next second, someone shoved me hard from behind.

The fever had already drained every bit of strength from my body, so I completely lost my balance and crashed onto the broken glass.

A searing pain shot through my palm. Blood immediately poured from the deep cut, mixing with the orange juice across the tile floor.

"Julian! Have you lost your mind?" Mom's shrill voice filled the living room.

Instead of looking at me, she grabbed a handful of tissues and hurried over to wipe the stains off Ethan's clothes.

"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you get to ruin everyone else's day!

"Do you even know how expensive this outfit is?"

I sat there on the floor, staring at the deep gash across my palm as drops of blood kept falling onto the tiles.

Not a single person reached out to help me up.

Dad stood over me, looking down with the cold eyes of a complete stranger.

"Clean this up yourself. If you can't even control your emotions, you'll never amount to anything."

Then the three of them left together, hurrying off to Ethan's visa appointment, an appointment that apparently could not afford a single mistake.

The front door slammed shut behind them. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled to the sink, washing the blood from my hand. The icy water burned against the wound.

When I glanced at the mirror, I barely recognized the person staring back at me. My face was ghostly pale, completely drained of color.

The image brought back a memory from when I was ten. Ethan had sneezed once, and Dad had immediately canceled every plan he had that day.

Mom had refused to wait until morning, insisting on taking him to the hospital that very night for a full examination.

They stayed with him the entire night without leaving his side.

Now, I stood there with a 102-degree fever, blood dripping from my hand. However, to them, I was only ‘making up physical symptoms’.

I found a clean towel, wrapped my injured hand, then went back to the tiny storage room that served as my bedroom and collapsed onto the hard, narrow bed.

I never took any medicine or went to the hospital. I simply endured it.

Every ache in my body reminded me how foolish it was to keep hoping my parents would ever care.

When the fever reached its worst, I even began hallucinating.

I dreamed that I had finally escaped this house. I had gone somewhere no one knew my name, somewhere untouched by favoritism, quiet cruelty, or pretty lies disguised as kindness.

A place where I could simply exist as myself.

My fever finally broke the morning after.

The first thing I did after recovering was find a rag.

I went through the house and carefully wiped away every fingerprint I had ever left behind. One by one, until it was as if I had never lived there at all.

Chapter 3

One week before Ethan was set to leave for Francoria, he began making a huge production out of packing for his trip.

The door to my storage room was thrown open just as I was reviewing my student loan application.

Ethan walked in wearing a pair of expensive limited-edition sneakers and immediately waved a hand in front of his nose.

"Why does this room smell so musty?"

His eyes wandered around the room before settling on the wooden box sitting on my desk.

It was the last thing Grandma had left me. Inside was an old Leica camera.

Before she passed away, she had told me, "When you grow up, get out and see the world. Use this to record your own life."

Ethan's eyes lit up. Without asking, he walked over, picked up the box, and opened it.

"This camera looks so vintage. It'll be perfect to take to Parish as a photography prop."

He reached inside and took out the camera as if it already belonged to him.

"Put it down." I stood up and grabbed his wrist.

"Grandma left that to me. You don't get to touch it."

Ethan immediately frowned and pretended I was hurting him.

"Julian, you're squeezing way too hard.

"I'm only borrowing it. It's not like I'm going to break it. Why are you so stingy?"

The commotion quickly drew our parents from the living room.

Mom rushed in, saw me holding Ethan's wrist, and slapped the back of my hand without a second thought.

"Julian! What are you doing? Let go of him!"

The sting made my hand loosen.

Ethan instantly stepped behind Mom, rubbing his wrist as though he had been injured.

"Mom, I liked that old camera. I just wanted to bring it to Francoria to shoot some photos, but Julian got mad at me..."

Dad walked in with a frown.

When he saw the Leica on the desk, he simply shook his head.

"I thought it was something valuable. It's just an old camera from decades ago."

He looked at me, already slipping into lecture mode.

"Julian, let's analyze this based on practical value.

"Ethan is going to one of the world's artistic capitals. In his hands, this camera will have the greatest social and artistic value.

"You're studying education. You'll spend all your time buried in classrooms and textbooks. Giving the camera to you is a complete waste."

I took a slow breath. Something inside my chest felt like it was cracking apart.

"I already told you. It's the keepsake Grandma left to me." I repeated every word carefully, hoping to awaken even the tiniest bit of humanity in them.

Mom let out a harsh laugh as if I had said something ridiculous.

"So what if it's a keepsake? Things are meant to be used.

"I thought you’ve always been the practical one. You never cared about sentimental nonsense.

“Why are you suddenly treating an object as if it's more important than a person?

"Ethan is going to another country all by himself. He needs something from home to keep him company. Give him the camera.

“Think of it as something you can do for your brother."

‘Brotherly love?’

What a beautiful excuse.

‘Putting it to good use?’

Another beautiful excuse.

Ethan peeked out from behind Mom, wearing his usual considerate smile. "Julian, if you really can't bear to part with it, I'll trade you my old phone.

"Deal?

"Your phone barely works anymore anyway."

His words were light, but they cut deeper than any insult.

My phone screen was covered in cracks. Sometimes it took several tries just to send a text.

Meanwhile, Ethan always got the newest iPhone the day it came out.

I did not even look at the old phone he held out. I simply looked at the three people standing in front of me.

Together, they formed a wall so solid that nothing could get through. Every bit of love and protection stayed on their side.

I was completely shut out.

"Fine. Do whatever you want."

I turned away without another glance and lowered my head to continue organizing my paperwork.

The moment they took the camera away, I suddenly felt strangely relieved. There was nothing left in this house that they could take from me.

They had taken my academic scholarship. They had taken every bit of care they could have given me.

Now, they had turned the theft of Grandma's camera into yet another ‘lesson’ about family.

Time and again, they had reminded me of the same painful truth: I had never truly belonged in this family.

That night, I heard Ethan talking with his friends on a voice call in the living room.

"Oh, this camera? My little brother insisted on giving it to me.

"It would've been wasted on him anyway. He doesn't know how to appreciate something this nice. It's better off with me."

I sat alone in the darkness of the storage room.

The laughter from outside drifted through the walls. I did not shed a single tear.

Instead, I opened the Notes app on my phone and typed one sentence.

[Three days until I leave.]

I stopped trying to argue. I stopped hoping anyone would understand.

Every disappointment became another brick in the wall I built around myself until it was finally high enough and strong enough to keep them from hurting me ever again.

Chapter 4

August 25.

There was only one day left before I had to report to Jubilee City University.

The final approval for my student loan required a parent to appear in person with a photo ID and sign the paperwork.

It should have been done three days ago. However, Dad always had another excuse ready.

"Julian, I have an academic seminar this afternoon. I can't get away.

"Standing in line is a waste of time. I'll do it when I'm free."

If he did not sign today, my loan application would be canceled.

Before leaving the house that morning, I stopped him in the entryway. He was buttoning up his suit jacket.

"I’ll see you at 3 PM at the bank. You promised you'd be there today."

Dad adjusted his tie impatiently and gave a careless nod.

"I know, I know. I'll stop by after I'm done. Quit reminding me."

By 2 PM that afternoon, Cascade City was being pounded by heavy rain.

I did not have an umbrella. I ran all the way to the bank, soaked from head to toe.

The air conditioning inside was freezing. My clothes clung to my skin, and my lips turned purple from the cold as I sat in the corner, clutching my waiting number.

2:30 PM.

3 PM.

3:30 PM.

The electronic system kept calling out ticket numbers one after another.

Outside, the sky slowly grew darker.

I called Dad.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

Every call ended with the same cold recorded voice.

"Sorry. The person you're trying to reach is unavailable."

At 4 PM, with only an hour left before the bank closed, I dialed Mom's number with trembling fingers.

The phone rang for a long time before she answered.

The background was loud and chaotic. It sounded like an airport terminal.

"Hello? Make it quick. We're busy over here!"

Her voice was full of impatience.

"Where's Dad?" I gripped my phone so tightly my fingers hurt. "He promised he'd be at the bank at three. Where is he?"

There was a brief pause.

Then Mom answered as if nothing were wrong.

"Oh. Ethan's checked luggage was overweight.

“He kept complaining and refused to check in. Your father felt bad for him, so he rushed over to help.

"We're all at the airport now."

I looked at the clock hanging on the bank wall. The second hand ticked steadily forward.

"Does he know that if he doesn't sign today, I'll lose my student loan?"

I barely recognized how calm my own voice sounded.

"So what?" Mom cut me off impatiently. "If you can't get the loan, then forget it. You can wait a year before starting college. Go get a job, save some money, and enroll next year.

"Ethan going to Francoria is what really matters. If this ruins his mood before he leaves, are you going to take responsibility for that?"

Wait a year?

Work first?

Save up?

To them, my future was worth less than a few extra pounds in Ethan's suitcase.

"Yoana Lynch." For the first time in my life, I called Mom by her full name.

The line fell silent.

"Have you ever thought about what happens if I don't go to college? It'll ruin the rest of my life."

She was quiet for two seconds, then she exploded.

"Julian! Are you lecturing me now?

“Who taught you to call your own mother by her name?

"I knew it. You've never understood what gratitude means! If you think you're so capable, then solve the rest of your problems yourself.

“And don't expect us to help you ever again!"

Click.

The call ended.

I stared at the words ‘Call Ended’ on my screen.

I laughed.

I laughed until tears finally spilled down my face, mixing with the rainwater already there.

By then, I could not even tell which was which.

I stood up and walked to the Financial Aid Office counter.

From my folder, I pulled out another stack of documents I had spent the last several days gathering.

They included records proving my legal guardianship, documentation showing that my parents had refused to provide financial support, and everything required to apply for independent student status under special circumstances.

I looked at the staff member and did my best to keep my voice steady.

"Hello.

"My parents have formally refused to fulfill their financial responsibilities. I'd like to request a special review and have my financial aid eligibility reassessed as an independent student.

“Could you please tell me if there's anything else I need to submit?"

By the time I finished all the paperwork and walked out of the bank, the rain had stopped.

The setting sun broke through the clouds, covering the streets in warm golden light.

I returned to the place everyone insisted on calling home. Then I pulled out the suitcase I had packed the night before.

Inside were only two changes of old clothes and a few textbooks. I did not take a single thing that belonged to the house. Not even a pair of slippers.

I placed my house key on top of the shoe cabinet by the front door.

Just as my hand closed around the doorknob, my phone buzzed.

It was a Messenger notification from Dad.

[Julian, your brother found a limited-edition mechanical watch at the duty-free shop. Send me $2,000. Consider it your farewell gift to him as his younger brother.]

The moment I read the message, my stomach twisted with disgust.

I did not reply. Instead, I opened his profile and pressed ‘Delete’.

Then I deleted Mom.

Then Ethan.

Then I pulled the front door open and walked away without looking back.

The stepping stone that had been trampled on for eighteen years had finally grown legs of its own.

This time, it was walking straight toward the light.