Hiro entered the house. “Welcome, young master,” the maid said with a practiced smile, bowing slightly, but her gaze lingered on Hiro only for a few seconds. He was used to it; everything in this house was just for show. A big house with bright walls, expensive carpets, and windows that turned the light into a false sense of peace.

But inside these walls… there was shouting, suffocating silences, and hidden pain.

The sound of his parents’ quarrel came from downstairs. The angry voice of the man and the stubborn shouting of the woman. Hiro walked up the stairs slowly—not because he was indifferent, but because he was used to it. When pain repeats itself, one learns how to ignore its voice.

Yet, there was still something that kept his heart alive. Someone for whom fighting still had meaning. His younger brother… Nico.

He opened the door quietly. The faint evening light filtered through the curtains. And there he was…

Nico, curled up in the corner of the room beside the bed, hugging his knees. His pajamas hung loosely on his thin frame, and his body was clearly trembling. His beautiful eyes, which always shone like two stars, were now red and puffy.

His sobbing was soft… but filled with so much pain that it immediately clenched Hiro’s heart. Nico had always been a sensitive child; even a loud voice could break him. And now… he was whispering, with a voice as if coming from the depths of fear:

“Hyung… come home… I’m so scared…”

His body was frozen from fear. His fingers tightly wrapped around his knees.

Hiro quickly reached his side. Without saying a word, he hugged him. Nico’s body trembled like a feather in his arms. He stroked him gently, like someone trying to save a fragile flower.

(Nico has SM. Whenever he is under severe stress, he experiences vision problems or difficulty walking. And these fears gradually dim parts of his being.)