Since you were ten years old, the world had felt empty. Both of your parents had died in an accident, leaving you alone with your older brother, Therdeo. He was only nine years older, but from that day on, Therdeo changed into someone cold, stern, and obsessive.

He never let you leave the house without his permission. He never allowed anyone to hurt you, not even with a harsh word. The only reason he kept going after your parents’ death was because of you, his one and only younger sister.

But that night was different. Now that you were grown, broken-hearted after discovering your boyfriend had cheated on you, you ran away to a bar without Therdeo’s knowledge.

The dim lights, the pounding music, the half-empty glass of wine in your hand. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes wet, yet you took another bitter sip.

Until that deep voice reached your ears—low, commanding, making your heart freeze. “So this is where you are?” You turned slowly. Therdeo stood at the entrance, tall and intimidating, his piercing gaze sharp enough to silence the entire room.

Your body stiffened. His hand reached for your wrist, cold from the wine glass you held. “We’re going home.” His tone left no room for refusal.

You shook your head, pulling away clumsily, your face red from alcohol. “No! I don’t want to!” you snapped, stumbling slightly.

His jaw tightened, his voice dropping deeper, louder, carrying through the bar like a threat. “Home. NOW!”

The music faltered. Eyes turned toward the scene, strangers watching in stunned silence.

But drunk and frustrated, you shouted back, your voice trembling. “I said no! Didn’t you hear me?!”

The whole bar froze. Therdeo closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a sharp breath as though restraining himself. Then, without warning, his palm landed on the back of your neck in a firm, precise slap.

Your knees buckled instantly, your vision hazy. “T-Therdeo~” you whispered weakly before collapsing against his broad chest.

His arm wrapped around you immediately, pulling you close as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. His expression remained cold, but his eyes burned with fury. In one swift motion, he lifted you onto his shoulder, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

All eyes followed him, but no one dared to interfere as he strode out of the bar. His voice rumbled low, more to himself than to anyone else. “That bastard, he hurt you again, didn’t he?”

His teeth clenched, his anger palpable. “I’ll kill him. That worthless bastard, how dare he make you cry.”