Haruto curled up in the corner of the living room, his arms wrapped around his head, trying to shield himself as his parents screamed at each other, throwing whatever they could get their hands on. His small frame trembled as objects shattered around him—glass, plates, bottles—raining down like tiny daggers. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the occasional shard or flying object that always seemed to find him.
But for Haruto, this was nothing new. He knew it would pass. It always did. His father would throw a fit, storm out of the house, and disappear for days. Then, his mother would take a long bath, put on fresh clothes, and paint her lips with her favorite red lipstick before leaving as well.
"If you're just going to run around with other men, we might as well split up!" His father hurled a bottle against the wall, the glass shattering just inches from Haruto. He flinched, ducking his head even lower to avoid the sharp fragments.
"Maybe we should! You're useless anyway, always drunk!" His mother stomped off to their bedroom and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
"Fine! Walk away like you always do! Take care of the kid yourself! I'm done with this house!" His father turned to look at Haruto, his bloodshot eyes burning with rage—like a demon ready to devour him whole.
But Haruto knew better. His father wasn't always like this. Once upon a time, they used to play in the park every afternoon. Back then, his father would lift him high into the air, laugh with him, and call him his little champ. He wasn't a bad man. Just... tired. Just drunk. That's what Haruto told himself.
"Tsk, I'm not taking that dead weight with me. You raise him yourself. Not even sure if he's mine anyway," his father muttered, grabbing his things and walking out the door.
As soon as silence settled in, Haruto hesitated for a moment before scrambling to his feet. He raced to the apartment entrance, flinging the door open just in time to see his father stumbling down the hallway.
"Bye, Otousan! Te-teke care!" His five-year-old voice was still full of innocence, mispronouncing words, unaware of the weight of what had just happened.
His father never looked back. He staggered toward the elevator, swaying from side to side, before disappearing behind the metal doors.
Haruto stood there for a moment, waiting... hoping... but the door never opened again. So, with tiny hands, he pushed the apartment door shut, careful not to let it slam. He tiptoed through the living room, weaving through the broken glass scattered across the floor. He had learned the hard way—after stepping on too many shards—that it was better to avoid them than to cry over fresh wounds.
His legs and feet were already covered in bandages, scars from previous accidents. He had also lost count of how many days had passed since he last had a proper bath or changed into fresh clothes.
He looked like a lost child, abandoned and forgotten.
But the truth was... he really had been.
Haruto grabbed a broom, his tiny hands working diligently to clean up the mess his parents had left behind. His mother would be furious if she saw the living room and kitchen in chaos again.
He didn't want her to be angry. He didn't want her to be sad. He loved his mother.
This was how things had been in their home for as long as he could remember. But ever since that last argument, his father had never returned. He disappeared without a word, never showing his face again. And from that moment on, his mother started bringing different men home—strangers who came and went as if their apartment was just another stop on their way elsewhere.
Haruto stopped going to school. He rarely went outside. Food became scarce. He was like a ghost drifting through the apartment he once considered his safe space.
Then, one day, he noticed a new visitor—Kenzo-san. Unlike the others, Kenzo-san kept coming back. He even stayed overnight sometimes. Haruto slowly got used to his presence, watching as his mother smiled more than she had in a long time.
For the first time, he thought—maybe, just maybe—things were going back to the way they used to be.
Kenzo-san had replaced his father.
"Kanae, don't you think it's time to return this kid to his father?" Kenzo-san glanced at Haruto, his expression somewhere between pity and disgust.
"Return him? How? His father's dead. I don't even know what to do with that child anymore," Kanae scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. She didn't care if Haruto heard. To her, he was nothing more than a burden—something she had been forced to carry for far too long.
Haruto didn't react.
Maybe Mama only said that because she was still mad at Papa. Maybe everything would be fine again.
He remained silent in his little corner, playing with the toys his father had bought him long ago. When he wasn't in the living room, he liked spending time on the apartment's balcony. It was the only place where he could breathe freely. Even if they lived on the 14th floor, he didn't mind—at least out there, he could feel like he was part of the world.
Months passed, and Kanae had completely forgotten about him. She was too busy with her new man to care. Haruto became nothing more than a shadow in the house, invisible and ignored. No one gave him food anymore, so he learned to survive by eating whatever scraps were left behind.
Then, one day, he heard them fighting.
For the first time in months, the apartment was filled with the sound of shattering plates and flying objects again.
"What did you just say? You're pregnant? Are you out of your mind?! I don't want a kid with you!"
"What am I supposed to do then?! You're the one who got me pregnant! You think I did this on my own?!" Kanae clutched her stomach, her voice filled with frustration.
Haruto's eyes widened.
Wow. I'm going to have a sibling?
Excitement bubbled up inside him.
I can't wait! I'm going to be a big brother!
Haruto knew what it meant to be pregnant. It was when a mother's belly grew bigger, and after some time, a baby would come out. He had always wanted a sibling—someone to play with, someone to talk to in this apartment that felt far too big for someone so small.
Yes, for a child like Haruto, their tiny apartment seemed vast—so vast that his mother never even noticed him.
"I'm leaving! Do whatever you want!"
"Wait, Kenzo! No! Don't leave me!" Kanae ran after him, her desperate cries echoing through the hall. Haruto heard the sharp click of the lock as the door shut behind her.
He stood up and tried to turn the knob.
Locked.
But he wasn't worried. His mother would come back.
She always did.
And when she did, they would all be together again—him, his mother, and his new sibling. Everything would be fine.
But days passed. Then weeks. Then months.
Haruto's stomach ached with hunger, but there was nothing left to eat. The only thing filling his belly was water. His vision blurred, his body weakened, and no matter how much he cried for help, no one answered. Their apartment was in an old, nearly abandoned building—there was no one around to hear him.
So he curled up in the corner of the living room, behind the sofa, and closed his eyes.
Five years passed.
The building had been renovated, bought by a major company, and reopened as a luxury condominium. Whatever incident had once taken place there had been erased—buried beneath wealth and business, as if it had never happened.
"Mom! Hurry up! I can't wait to see our new condo!" Jin shouted excitedly. He had just graduated elementary school and moved to Tono City to start middle school—and to begin his career in acting after landing an ad campaign deal.
"Put some of the boxes in the living room first! Help me out here!" his mother called.
Jin grabbed a few boxes and placed them behind the sofa.
That's when he saw it.
Just for a second—out of the corner of his eye—a flicker of shadow instantly disappeared in his eyes. Jin ignored it.
"Ah... you're finally here, brother," a whisper slithered through the air.
Haruto—his form now twisted with envy—crawled across the floor, his hollow eyes locked onto Jin.
As Jin unboxed their belongings, he felt an unnatural weight press against him. Cold arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, embracing him from behind.
"I've been waiting for you for so long, brother."
Jin's hands shot up to his shoulder, gripping it as a dull, aching numbness spread through his body.