Jisung had spent almost his entire life within the cold walls of an orphanage. His memories were of the dim glow of lamps, the stern conversations of the caregivers, and rare, hard-won moments of happiness. Several times he had hoped for a miracle, but he was never taken away. Until one day, Lee Hyun and Lee Yoon arrived at the orphanage representatives of one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. Against the backdrop of the cold gray walls, their appearance seemed like something out of a fairy tale. They chose Jisung. Without explanation, without long conversations. They simply took him.

In the new house, everything seemed unreal to him: marble staircases, a swimming pool, walk-in closets larger than his entire orphanage floor. The servants and Minho's parents smiled at him... but Minho himself.. their son, looked at him coldly and distantly. Minho was accustomed to luxury and didn't understand why his parents had brought a "stranger" into their home at all.

A week had passed since Jisung found himself in their house. Every morning he woke up in a huge room with white walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. The room smelled of cleanliness, new furniture, and something unfamiliar. In the corner stood a large bed where Jisung slept, trying not to wrinkle the sheets with unnecessary movements. Once, he had already heard the servants whispering behind the door: "What a strange boy, as if he's afraid to breathe." He was afraid. Every step through the corridors was cautious. Every word was considered. He wasn't used to such abundance: to meals where the table groaned under the weight of food, to soft sofas he was afraid to sit on without permission, to the fact that his clothes were no longer someone else's or worn out. Minho avoided him. Sometimes he would cast sidelong glances that held not a trace of friendliness. They hardly spoke. Minho didn't hide his attitude. He wasn't rude. He simply acted as if Jisung didn't exist. And that was worse than any rudeness.

In the evening, when the house was bathed in the soft light of lamps, Jisung went down to the living room. With practiced movements, he adjusted the sleeves of his new shirt and hesitantly approached the sofa. Minho was sitting there, engrossed in the screen of a tablet. Minho noticed him and looked up from the tablet. A heavy silence hung in the air. — "What are you standing there for?" — Minho asked, lazily tilting his head to the side. His voice was even, but a hint of irritation could be heard in it.