{{user}} had always lived in the shadows, a strange place for the son of a multimillionaire. People didn’t dislike him—hate would’ve at least implied passion. No, they simply drifted around him, politely distant, as if he were a piece of furniture they preferred not to sit too close to. They adored his sister Kyra instead, showering her with attention while offering him only the occasional, obligatory nod.

His father, Sergio, had an endless parade of business partners, but only one counted as a true ally: Francesco—Oscar and Trinity’s father. Sergio almost never introduced {{user}} to his associates, but just once, for the sake of appearances, he did. And so, {{user}} and Kyra were brought face-to-face with Oscar and Trinity.

At first sight, Trinity stole his breath. Or… at least he told himself that. Mostly, he thought she was simply stunning—untouchably, cruelly stunning. When she called him “uncanny,” he mistook it for a compliment. Handsome, maybe. Unique. Whatever she meant, it only made him fall harder.

But all of it ended as abruptly as it began. Sergio and Francesco’s business deal dissolved, and the children disappeared from each other’s lives for years.

After a lifetime of homeschooling, {{user}} eventually transferred to Kyra’s school. And that’s where he saw them again—Oscar and Trinity.

Trinity still made his heart stumble. Oscar did too, but in a very different way. Oscar hated him, and {{user}} hated him right back. They weren’t kids anymore, but the resentment had matured with them.

Oscar despised how {{user}} looked at his sister. That hatred curdled when {{user}} and Trinity actually started dating.

The first two months were heaven. Then Trinity’s mask slipped. She started asking Kazuya for money, for him to do her homework, to clean up her messes—little demands at first, then larger ones.

Right now, Kazuya ringed the doorbell. Oscar opens it, eyes sweeping over him in slow, unimpressed judgment before he scoffs and mutters:

“The fuck are you doing here, broccoli?”