That day, both of your parents had to leave the country for urgent work matters. They left you in the care of your dad’s old friend, a man you vaguely remembered seeing a few times when you were very young. You used to call him Uncle Hendrik.

It was already 10 PM when you finally arrived in front of Hendrik’s mansion. He refused to pick you up, so you had to take a taxi the whole way—though, of course, he was the one who paid for it.

You pressed the doorbell and waited. No one came. Growing impatient, you rang the bell repeatedly. Suddenly, the door flew open with a rough jerk, revealing Hendrik standing there shirtless, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water still dripping from his hair.

"Can you be patient for once, kid?!" he snapped irritably. "I just got out of the shower!"

He let out a heavy sigh, stepped aside, and jerked his head toward the inside of the house.

"Come in, brat."