Zelo was born with everything—wealth, power, and a name that carried the legendary family. The Ashford family, an empire built on advanced technology and finance giants, had topped the industry for generations. But Zelo's existence was never a blessing; it was a mistake. He was the bastard child of the mighty chairman and a greedy secretary who gave birth to Zelo only for luxury.

His father, Victor Ashford, took him in—not out of love, but to save his image. His stepmother despised him; his two stepbrothers treated him as a punching bag, an unworthy rival for an inheritance they believed was theirs by birthright. Love was a privilege Zelo never had. The grand mansion was nothing but a gilded cage, filled with everything he needed, the most advanced technology, the best clothes—but no warmth, no acceptance, no love.

So, he buried himself in knowledge to earn his father's acknowledgment. At the age of fifteen, he won the International Mathematics Olympiad. That was the first time his father looked at him—not as a son, but as an asset. From then on, his life was no longer his own. He graduated as a top business student, completed his PhD in record time, and returned to the company and learned the truth.

He was a tool, a perfect shadow used to uphold his father's legacy while the true heirs squandered their lives. He worked harder to build his father's legacy, strengthened the company, and made the Ashford name even more powerful. And in return, he was given nothing. No recognition, no place in the will, no seat at the table.

But he endured.

Because Zelo had never wanted the throne. He had never dreamed of ruling. All he wanted was to belong—to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be something more than just a tool. So he played his role. He stayed in the shadows, never overstepping his boundry, never demanding more than what was given. He was the perfect shadow, the silent force behind the empire's success.

Until he faced betrayal.

One night he was working late at the company, buried in reports, when the attack came. The office lights flickered.

Zelo barely had time to react before the first gunshot rang out. The bullet grazed his shoulder. Pain burned through him as he scrambled to his feet, knocking over his chair. His heart pounded. His mind raced.

Who sent them?

The answer hit him as he saw the familiar faces, and suddenly the thought crossed his mind.

The investors and board members had begun to favor him over his incompetent stepbrothers. They saw him as the natural successor, the only one capable of leading Ashford Group into the future.

Apparently, his father didn't like that, and he decided to discard his puppet now.

Betrayal tasted bitter on Zelo's tongue, but he had no time for anger. He darted down the hall, gripping his bleeding shoulder. He knew the building like the back of his hand—every exit, every blind spot. But they were closing in.

His legs carried him to the restricted lab—one he had never been allowed to enter. Desperation drowned out reason. He slammed the door shut behind him, locking it.

Panting, he scanned the room. Files, servers, a reinforced vault.

Then his eyes landed on a folder.

A single word stood out on the cover: ASTER.

His breath hitched. He had seen the name before. Countless funds had been funneled into this project, yet he had never been told what it was. His father had always dismissed his questions. But now, standing in this room, bleeding and betrayed, something clicked.

It was important for that man. Maybe more than his own life.

His eyes fall on a locker, labeled as Aster. Inside, a single syringe rested on a steel tray, glowing with an otherworldly substance.

An idea formed in his mind. He could use this—negotiate for his life, for his freedom. He wasn't a fool. He had hacked into countless security systems for his father. This was no different.

He grabbed the laptop on the desk, working quickly. The safe was protected by layers of encryption, but he knew the patterns, the backdoors his father used. Within seconds, the case was unlocked.

But before he could process his next move, the door burst open.

Victor Ashford stood there, flanked by armed men—the very same ones who had shot him.

His father's gaze wasn't on him.

It was on the syringe.

Desperation flickered in his usually cold eyes.

"Zelo, put it down."

Zelo's chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged breaths.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse.

"Why go this far? I did everything you asked. I never crossed the line. I—"

A gunshot.

Pain exploded in his chest. He staggered, his knees buckling. Blood soaked his shirt, warm and thick. He gasped, struggling to stay upright, to keep breathing. His father stepped forward, his hand outstretched—not for him, but for the syringe.

That time something in Zelo snapped.

A lifetime of chains. A lifetime of being a puppet. A lifetime of obedience.

And for what? To be discarded like trash?

His fingers tightened around the syringe. Anger burned in his heart; after doing everything, his reward was betrayal. He decided that, in that moment, he would take the most important thing from this man. He will make him pay.

Victor Ashford's eyes widened in horror as Zelo rammed the needle into his own neck, injecting the substance into his veins.

A firestorm ignited inside Zelo. Agony unlike anything he had ever known consumed him. His body burned, his vision blurred, his pulse thundered in his ears.

"No—NO!"

Victor Ashford roared. "Call Dr. Samuel! We need to extract the macros before he dies!"

Ah.

Zelo's lips curled into a bloody smile. He had never seen his father like this—desperate, terrified.

He wanted more.

With the last of his strength, he lunged forward, shoving his father away. His body was failing, his heartbeat erratic, but he refused to fall here—not in front of him.

He stumbled toward the window. Glass shattered as he threw himself through it, the cold night air rushing past him. His father's scream followed him down.

"NO!"

Zelo fell.

As he plummeted, the burning inside him grew unbearable. His heart felt like it would burst, his body shaking apart. His mind blurred between past and present. A life lived in servitude. A life without freedom. Without love. Without choice.

And in his final moments, just before touching the ground, he heard a voice—

Cold. Mechanical. And almost amused.

REGISTRATION SUCCESSFUL.......

SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS........

Then, nothing.