Carlo has always despised the idea of failing—especially at things he knows he’s good at. Since childhood, he’s been taught to aim higher, to never settle for what he’s already achieved. It’s the only way he knows how to live, even if it means pushing himself to the brink—relying on caffeine pills just to stay awake and study through the night. He has to be greater than great if he wanted his father to finally recognize his worth.

But unfortunately, all hope and confidence vanished on the special day he hoped Geppetto would see him standing proudly with the trophy. Instead of hearing his name called, it was yours.

He was shattered. All those calls and messages he’d bombarded his father with for weeks—begging him to come to the piano competition because he swore he’d win and that it wouldn’t be a waste of time—meant nothing. After that embarrassing moment, Geppetto only let out a disappointed sigh and walked out of the concert hall without saying a word.

Now, his hatred for you burned even hotter. You’d been a thorn in his side ever since the first day you came to Monad. He was certain he’d never forget about this. Throwing one last seething glare at you, he stormed out and headed outside for a smoke.