Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 91. A Happy Family...

Bustling noises echoed through the modest but warm living room, cluttered with the kind of disorganized happiness that only a well-loved home could carry.

The scent of sautéed onions and something rich and buttery wafted from the kitchen.

The clatter of utensils, the hum of the exhaust fan, and distant birdsong filtered through open windows, wrapping the house in a cocoon of life.

Near the dining table—nestled between a narrow hallway and the kitchen—a young girl sat with her arms crossed, her black hair tied into messy twin tails, her cheeks puffed out in defiance.

She glared at her mother with watery black eyes. "Mom!! Why can’t I go to the same school as him? I’m smart too, you know!"

Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying how much she meant those words.

The woman in the kitchen, a graceful lady with soft brunette hair falling over her shoulder and the same obsidian eyes, turned her head slightly, smiling faintly as she stirred something in the pan.

Her voice was calm, ever-patient. "Sweetie, your brother got into that school by cracking a really tough entrance exam. You haven’t even applied for it yet."

With practiced grace, she grabbed two plates filled with golden, steaming food, walked over, and set them on the table.

Then she crouched down beside the sulking girl, gently pinching her cheek with warm fingers. "I know my sweet girl is smart. Super smart. But let your brother have this win, okay? This is the only time he’s done something properly, and you know it."

The girl looked away, her lip trembling. "I know... but... he keeps bullying me."

Her mother gave a short chuckle, brushing back the girl’s hair with fingers that had long since learned the language of silent comfort. "He’s leaving now. He won’t be around to pester you anymore."

That one hit a little harder than expected.

The girl’s expression faltered, softening into a quiet sadness. Her eyes lost their luster, replaced by a dull glint of realization. "Then I’ll be alone when you and dad are off at work..."

Her voice was soft. Almost a whisper. But it made the mother’s heart clench all the same.

Still crouching, the woman wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her tightly.

"My baby... I know it’s hard. But this is necessary for your brother’s growth. You know how hard it’s been for him. We have to let him go forward, even if it’s a little lonely now."

The girl let her chin rest on her mother’s shoulder for a moment, then exhaled. "Yeah... I know. I always treat him like my own kid, anyway."

That made the mother smile again. She pulled back and ruffled the girl’s hair, teasingly. "Oh? Someone trying to steal my child, huh?"

The girl laughed at that—light, free, sincere.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Heavy yet calm.

Coming down was a tall man in his late thirties, with the same black hair and piercing hazel eyes.

Dressed in slacks and a crisp shirt, his presence brought a quiet authority to the room.

Beside him walked a young boy—barely eight, but already tall for his age. Silky black hair framed his small face, and his hazel eyes darted around the room with subtle curiosity.

He wore a sharp white shirt beneath a grey coat and matching grey trousers, the uniform of a school that promised elite futures and impossible expectations.

The boy paused near the dining table and, without hesitation, walked up to his sister and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"I’ll miss you... you know."

His voice was honest. It carried none of the bravado he usually wielded like a sword in their daily bickering.

The girl blinked in surprise. Then, slowly, she wrapped her arms around him too.

The once-annoyed elder sister morphed into a gentle protector in an instant. She bent down a little and softly ruffled his hair, resting her hand there like a shield.

"You better," she whispered. "And promise me you’ll do your best there. Don’t slack off. Okay?"

The boy gave a quick, solemn nod.

From across the room, both parents watched their children, quiet smiles blooming on their faces like the morning sun.

There was something unspoken between them—a deep gratitude that, at least for now, their fractured, chaotic world held together.

The mother clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone! Food’s getting cold. Eat up before we end up late."

Everyone snapped into motion.

The father took his seat at the table, his eyes warm as he helped scoop food onto the plates.

The girl sat beside her brother, less moody now, just occasionally glancing at him as if burning his presence into her memory.

The boy dug into his food quietly but quickly, his manners clashing with his excitement and nerves.

The air smelled of home, of fleeting childhood and departing innocence.

No one knew—couldn’t have known—that this moment, this exact day, would be one of the last untouched by shadows.

But for now... they were just a family of four, having lunch.

Together.

...

Lunch ended with warmth, chatter, and the faint clinking of cutlery. The family of four sat a little longer, as if each of them silently wanted to delay the inevitable. But time, cruel and uncaring, pushed forward.

Eventually, the father stood up, ruffling his son’s hair with a firm yet gentle pat. "Come on. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us."

The boy nodded, pushing back from the table. He glanced once at his sister, their eyes meeting for a moment that neither could decipher.

The father and son left through the front door. Outside, the summer sun had begun to dip, casting longer shadows across the yard.

The father moved toward the garage, pulling up the metal shutter with a rusty groan.

Inside was the family car—old, gray, the paint chipped on the corners. He slid into the driver’s seat and backed it out slowly, wheels crunching over gravel.

The boy waited near the mailbox, bag slung over his shoulder. His coat was slightly oversized, his shoes recently polished. He looked too formal for a mere goodbye.

Once the car was in position, the father gave a sharp honk, beckoning the boy over.

But instead of heading straight to the vehicle, the boy took a step back.

He turned, eyes scanning toward the doorway where two figures stood—his mother and sister, still at the threshold of the house.

Then, without a word, he moved to them.

He didn’t hug both.

He hugged only his sister.

Arms wrapped tightly around her, burying his face into her shoulder.

And she hugged back. Firm. Unshaking. Like she didn’t want to ever let go.

Then he turned without saying anything more and walked away. Into the car. Into the unknown.

The car began to move.

From the rear window, the boy pressed his forehead to the glass and watched the two shrinking silhouettes of his mother and sister.

The wind tousled their hair. The sun cast a golden glow on their figures.

His sister tried to smile.

But the tears betrayed her.

She wiped at them furiously, pretending like nothing was wrong.

But she was twelve.

And twelve was still too young to be strong all the time.

The boy blinked, trying to etch the image into his mind forever.

The house, the flowers by the porch, the faint scent of his mother’s cooking, and the warmth in his sister’s arms—all of it.

All of it... felt far away now.

The road stretched endlessly before them. Tall trees flanked the highway, casting flickering shadows through the window. But the warmth of the house didn’t follow them.

Inside the car, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew dense. Suffocating. It clung to the boy like wet cloth, thick and strange.

He turned to his father, hoping for comfort. Hoping for that familiar, reliable smile.

But the man beside him was... different.

Gone was the warmth. Gone was the soft tone and the chuckles over small jokes.

In its place was silence. A stony expression. Cold, unreadable eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The boy tried. Several times.

He asked about the school. About the weather. About where they’d stop to eat. About anything, just to make conversation.

But each time, the man either grunted or ignored him outright.

And so, after a dozen failed attempts, the boy gave up. He sank into the seat and turned his face to the window again, watching the world pass by in blurry motion.

The hours dragged on.

At some point, the fatigue of the long journey took over. His eyes grew heavy.

The rhythm of the road lulled him to sleep, and he slumped sideways in the seat, curled slightly, a child trying to find peace.

It was nearly ten hours later when the car finally came to a halt.

Rough, sudden. Enough to jolt him awake.

He blinked rapidly, disoriented. The sky was dark now. The stars hidden behind clouds.

The building before them was not a school. It looked abandoned—cracked walls, rusted windows, paint peeling like old scabs. A crooked, rusted sign hung above the entrance:

"Orphanage."

The word didn’t register at first.

The man opened the driver’s side door and walked around to the boy’s side. His voice, sharp and without empathy, cut through the silence.

"Get up."

Still groggy, the boy rubbed his eyes. "W-What? Where are we?"

But the man didn’t wait.

He reached into the car, gripped the boy’s wrist tightly, and yanked him out.

The child staggered, barely catching himself. "Dad? What is this place? Are we... stopping for the night?"

His voice trembled.

The man didn’t answer.

He dragged the boy toward the front door and knocked. Loudly.

After a few moments, it creaked open.

A large, brawny man stood on the other side. Broad shoulders, scarred arms, a beady stare. His face bore a permanent frown, like someone forced to interact with the world against his will.

He eyed the duo.

Then raised a brow. "What?"

The father jerked his chin at the boy. "I want to leave this shit here."

The brawny man narrowed his eyes. "This isn’t a real orphanage. The sign’s just old paint."

"I know," the father said flatly. "That’s exactly why I’m dumping him here."

The boy’s heart sank. "W-What are you saying...?"

The muscular man leaned against the doorframe. "He looks like a good kid. What’s the problem?"

The father scoffed. "That’s not your business. Just take him."

The boy turned to his father, confused and panicked. "Dad...? What are you talking about?"

The father didn’t even glance at him.

The brawny man sighed and vanished inside.

A few minutes later, he returned with a small duffel bag and tossed it to the father.

Inside was a thick bundle of money—roughly two thousand dollars.

The man caught it midair and smiled for the first time that day.

He shoved the boy forward. "He’s yours now."

The brawny man grabbed the boy by the arm, pulling him inside.

That was when the boy realized.

This was real.

And he screamed.

"Dad! Dad, no—don’t leave me here! Please!! I’ll be good! I promise!! I’ll study more—Dad, please!!"

But the man never turned around.

Not once.

The child’s screams echoed into the empty night as the brawny man, irritated, struck him across the head.

The world spun.

And then—

—darkness.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is free(w)𝒆bnov(𝒆)l