Kiyoto sat alone in his small dormitory room, the silence thick around him. The absence of his roommate, a senior who'd graduated three months ago, made the room feel emptier than ever, like it was suspended in time. His desk was organized, books stacked neatly, and the bed was made to perfection—everything precisely in its place, as though untouched.
He couldn't shake his thoughts about his recent conversation with Miyano. Trust had always been difficult for him, something fragile and hard to give. Memories from his past drifted into his mind, memories he often tried to suppress. When his mother died, his father had left him at an orphanage, and at just eleven years old, he'd had to face a world that felt cold and indifferent. The days in the orphanage were tough—lonely, sometimes hostile. He learned early on that opening up could bring more hurt than comfort.
But one year and two months later, a woman adopted him. She was older, gentle, and treated him with the kindness he'd almost forgotten. She gave him everything he needed—warm food, nice clothes, and a steady place in school. She encouraged him, often reminding him he could be someone extraordinary if he put in the effort. For a while, he felt he belonged somewhere, that maybe he had finally found his home.
Then, another tragedy struck. She died in a car accident, leaving him alone once more. It was as if everyone he loved was destined to leave him. Kiyoto became convinced that perhaps he was unlucky, even a burden to others. So he buried his emotions, focused on his studies, and held tight to the promise he'd made to her—to succeed. Studying became his anchor, a way to control something in a life where everything else felt so unpredictable.
Lost in his thoughts, Kiyoto eventually drifted off to sleep at his desk, the weight of his memories pressing down on him.
Meanwhile, across town, Miyano opened the door to his spacious, well-furnished apartment. The room exuded a quiet elegance, each detail polished and precise. He set his bag down on the sofa and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a cold drink from the fridge. As he returned to the sofa, he leaned back, smirking slightly to himself.
"Kiyoto, you're adorable," he murmured with a soft chuckle, the memory of Kiyoto's earnestness lingering in his mind.
Suddenly, Miyano's phone rang. He picked up, and a burst of anger erupted from the other end.
"Are you an idiot? Why aren't you answering my calls? Do you know how many times I called you?!"
"Brother, calm down. I was busy," Miyano replied calmly. "No need to shout."
"This is your last warning. Though, I've lost count of how many 'last warnings' I've given you, Miyano!"
"Alright, alright, what is it?"
"Dad wants to see you. When you're free after studies, come meet him."
Miyano smirked. "Oh, so he finally remembered he has a second son? Why the sudden interest?"
Despite his words, Miyano knew he was the spoiled one, getting whatever he wanted. His father, the president of HR company the second-richest company , treated him like a prince, shielding him from the hardships of life.
"You have to meet him. No excuses this time. Got it?" his brother's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
Miyano sighed, "Fine," he replied with little enthusiasm. "I'll come tomorrow."
There was a pause, and then his brother's tone softened, just a little. "Hm, good for you, then," he muttered, sounding both satisfied and a bit surprised.
As he hung up, Miyano leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. This wasn't the first time he'd been summoned by his father, but each visit felt the same—formal, distant, almost like a business meeting. And yet, he couldn't deny a part of him was curious, wondering why his father wanted to see him this time. Despite his frustrations, Miyano knew he'd still show up, as he always did, if only to satisfy that small, lingering hope for something more from his family.