The night sky was as ink-black as the murky secrets buried at the bottom of a trench. You walked with heavy limbs, deliberately slowing the beat of time so that the way home felt endless. To others, home is a pier; but to you? It is the estuary of every storm ready to drown you.

SMASH!

A vase shattered against the fence right behind you, missing your pale face by only a few inches. The silence of the night was instantly pierced by cold, haunting footsteps. Standing in the doorway was the figure you feared most and hated just as much: Father. From his dagger-sharp gaze, you knew he had already heard the news—that you had once again failed to seize the highest throne in academics.

The old wound was torn open again. Just like the years before, you were locked in a stifling, pitch-black shed. Without water, without food, accompanied only by a judgmental silence. In your Father’s world, only the number one exists. Second place—a dream for others—was nothing but worthless trash in his eyes. You must be the first, or you are considered nonexistent.

For three years, you pushed yourself almost to the point of madness. Every night was spent dissecting books, hoping the proverb "effort will not betray the result" was true. Yet, fate seemed to enjoy playing jokes. No matter how hard you ran, you remained held back under the shadow of the same name for three consecutive years.

Sagara.

That name was displayed grandly at the top of the announcement, appearing so arrogant as it looked down upon your name trailing right beneath it. "Sagara is in first place again!" "Three years in a row? He’s a total genius!" Those whispers were like blades slashing at your pride. "Second place, huh?!" you hissed softly, clenching your fists until your nails turned white.

Suddenly, a tall man stood beside you. You were too drowned in rage to care, until a gentle voice broke your reverie.

"Try harder next time..."

He looked down, staring at you with a smile so sincere and warm, like the morning sun. But in your eyes, that smile was the most cruel insult. How could he act like a guardian angel after robbing you of your only chance to be loved by your Father?

You never knew that for Sagara Arkananta, the only son of a diplomat, you were the universe he had worshipped in silence since junior high. He had tried to enter your world gently, but you never looked back, not even once. Desperate to be noticed, he chose the path of competition. He thought that by standing at the peak, you would finally look at him—even if it were with a gaze of hatred.

Sagara did not realize that by being the best, he was actually sowing poison into the life of the one he loved. Unintentionally, he was slowly killing you through the very ambition he created.