As soon as Joo Seunghyuk returned to the mansion, he went straight to Lee Yeonsu’s room. But the room was completely empty.

Yeonsu, Yeonsu, Yeonsu, Yeonsu...

The library, dining hall, weight room, even his own bedroom and study—he searched every place Yeonsu might be. But he was nowhere to be found.

Had he run away again? Had he really left him again?

Seunghyuk’s heart was consumed by despair.

Joo Seunghyuk had never been a child anyone wanted.

His mother, Choi Seonghye, resented his very existence. Her lover saw him as a burden. And Chairman Joo looked at him with nothing but disappointment.

His mother’s family regarded him as a disgrace, and the Joo clan treated him like a cuckoo chick that had invaded someone else’s nest.

He didn’t know the full story behind his birth, but even as a young child, he could tell—everyone hated him.

“Father.”

His only anchor was his father, Joo Wanchan.

“Get out. Who told you you could just barge into the study?”

But Chairman Joo had never once held him kindly. His voice was always sharp, his gaze cold.

“I’m sorry—ah!”

“Dad!”

Joo Taehan shoved the frozen Seunghyuk aside and dashed into the study.

Seunghyuk was only six years old. He fell hard, but Taehan just scoffed and ran up to the chairman with a bright smile.

Chairman Joo patted Taehan’s head affectionately—something he had never once done for Seunghyuk.

“Taehan, you need to be careful not to knock others over.”

“Okaay.”

Taehan’s tone was drawn-out and sulky, but Chairman Joo didn’t scold him.

He got up and helped Seunghyuk to his feet.

“Thank you, Father.”

“You take after your mother. All you’ve got is a decent face, so be careful not to get it hurt.”

“Yes.”

Seunghyuk beamed.

He didn’t quite understand what his father meant. He was just grateful—happy that his father had cared he fell down.

He noticed, of course, that his father had scolded him for entering the study, but said nothing when Taehan did the exact same thing.

Still, he was happy.

But that fleeting happiness didn’t last.

BANG!

Seunghyuk woke from sleep to a deafening noise. Before he could even make sense of what was happening, someone grabbed him by the collar.

It was his beloved father. No—his father was choking him.

Even in the darkness, the hatred in his eyes was searingly clear.

Terrified, Seunghyuk couldn’t even scream. His father was trying to kill him—to erase him from existence.

He couldn’t breathe. The boy didn’t even struggle. He simply surrendered to whatever his father had decided.

He didn’t have the strength to resist, and he didn’t want to. He gave up his life on his own.

“Sir, please calm down.”

But Seunghyuk didn’t die. His cousin, Joo Jeonghan, had stepped in.

“Don’t sully your hands over a fake, Father.”

Without a word, Chairman Joo released his grip. The child’s small body collapsed to the floor.

A faint whimper escaped, but no one paid any attention to his pain.

***

That night, Seunghyuk was put on a plane and sent away to a foreign island.

The same island where his father, Joo Wanchan, had once lavished care on a grand estate.

Back when Red Lunhua fever swept the world, conducting clinical trials in Korea was a legal nightmare. So Joo Gyeongchan had bought a small island overseas—Abité—to conduct his drug development in secret.

But when the Red Lunhua research failed and Joo Gyeongchan died, the lab effectively shut down.

Most of the researchers left. Most of the mansion staff resigned. Only a handful of Korean employees remained.

They were thrilled to hear that the chairman’s youngest son was coming. As the only legitimate blood son of Chairman Joo, they figured it’d pay off to be in his good graces.

They gave Seunghyuk the biggest room in the house and showered him with attention.

But rumors spread quickly.

“He’s a fake?”

“I’m telling you. He’s not even a Joo.”

“Then why’d they send him here?”

“They abandoned him. No way they’d send the precious youngest son to a ruined island like this.”

“Damn, and here we were being so nice for nothing.”

Seunghyuk overheard the staff whispering. But at six years old, the words were too difficult to fully grasp.

That day, Park Cheolseop—the manager of the estate—got a phone call.

“Yes, understood. Of course, Master Jeonghan. The only people I serve are Director Joo Gyeongchan and the two young masters.”

He rushed to Seunghyuk’s room, grabbed the child by the arm, dragged him outside, and threw him into the shed at the edge of the estate.

“You filthy little fake! How dare you taint the Director’s estate? From now on, you’ll stay here—where garbage like you belongs!”

Park had expected the kid to cry, to beg and plead, and that thought brought him a twisted sense of pleasure.

There was a base thrill in tearing down a chaebol heir with his own hands, and a warped sense of justice in “disposing” of a fraud.

If the brat had fought back and thrown a fit, it would’ve been even more fun.

But Seunghyuk showed no reaction at all. Whether it was the grand bedroom or this filthy shed, he didn’t care. He just stood there, staring blankly with indifferent eyes.

When his father tried to kill him, he’d already given up on life. Though he’d survived, his emotions had not.

Staring into those lifeless, inorganic eyes—eyes no child should have—Park Cheolseop felt a chill down his spine.

“Fucking fake! No wonder you were thrown out!”

He hurled curses at the child for a while before finally leaving the shed.

From that day on, Seunghyuk lived in the storage shed. He ate leftovers. He slept wrapped in old rags piled up with cleaning supplies.

No one stepped in to stop the abuse of a child.

He was a fake. Born from a cheating wife and her lover despite Chairman Joo’s devotion. A filthy bloodline masquerading as a Joo son, leeching off luxury, and daring to aim for Sungan’s inheritance.

The staff didn’t think they were abusing a child. They thought they were exacting righteous punishment for a sin committed by a pair of adulterers.

Some pitied him. But anyone who dared show kindness to the boy was bullied and ostracized by the other staff.

No one was willing to suffer to protect him. And the # Nоvеlight # abuse only got worse.

Seunghyuk never cried. Never begged for mercy. He simply accepted the scorn and violence.

But he did wonder—why?

Why did his father hate him so much? Why did everyone despise him?

The staff called him a fake and hurled insults and fists at him. But no one ever explained why.

Did they think he was too young to understand?

It was absurd. Their actions far surpassed any concern for age-appropriate boundaries—and that was the one line they wouldn’t cross?

***

A year passed. Then another.

But Chairman Joo never came for Seunghyuk.

“What about school? Shouldn’t someone at least send him to the local one?”

“Leave him be. Even his father doesn’t care. Why should we?”

“Watch what you say. He’s no father. And he’s not even Chairman Joo’s kid. Didn’t his real dad run off before he was even born?”

The staff gossiped as they glanced toward Seunghyuk sitting alone outside the shed.

By the time he turned eight, he fully understood why he’d been cast out. No one ever sat him down and explained it—but he was old enough to grasp it all from the whispers around him.

“He can’t even read, can he? Can’t speak English or Korean. Isn’t education a big deal in Korea? I heard kids are fluent by five. He got here at six, right?”

“They’re not teaching him on purpose. What’s the point of raising a bastard smart?”

Seunghyuk never went to school. In fact, he wasn’t even allowed to leave the mansion.

Besides the estate, there were about thirty households living on Abité Island. If word got out about a hidden child, the villagers might alert the police or a welfare agency.

The staff believed their abuse was justified, but they also knew it had to remain hidden. And with silent approval from Chairman Joo, they erased his existence entirely.

Joo Seunghyuk lived imprisoned in a mansion, erased from society.

Until the Korean age of twelve.

One day, Joo Jeonghan and Joo Taehan visited the estate during their school break.

The staff bustled around like royalty was coming.

“Hey! What kind of mopping is that?! Scrub harder! Faster! Come on! The young masters will be here any minute!”

At some point, the staff began treating Seunghyuk like a servant.

Whatever order they gave, he obeyed with empty eyes.

A housekeeper scolded him for not scrubbing hard enough, then smacked him hard on the head—not a light flick, but a full-on blow. It wasn’t discipline. It was frustration.

“What the hell? Is that Joo Seunghyuk?”

“Young Master Taehan!”

The housekeeper whipped around, startled.

She panicked, thinking she’d be scolded for abusing him.

But Taehan burst out laughing at the sight of his half-brother being treated like trash.

“Look at him. Total street rat.”