Chapter 14: Family Reunions Suck
While Elias was scrambling to finish his essay at the hospital, back at school—behind the gym in a rarely-used corner of the yard—a group of rowdy boys loomed over a lone figure curled on the ground.
Syler lay on his side, arms covering his head, knees pulled in tight to shield his stomach. His shirt was filthy with dirt and shoe prints. His brown hair clung to his sweaty forehead in messy strands, and bruises were already forming along his arms.
The boys shouted, laughed, and tossed out insults, but they were getting bored. One by one, they wandered off—until only the biggest of them remained.
Kevin.
The tall teen with the buzzcut stepped forward and casually wiped the sole of his sneaker on Syler's back like he was nothing more than a doormat. Then he spat on him without a second thought.
Syler flinched, but didn't move.
Kevin crouched down beside him, his tone mockingly casual. "Heh. Been cozy lately? Funny how quiet things get when your two shining knights aren't around."
He jabbed Syler's forehead with his finger—slow, deliberate, and just hard enough to sting. "Thought I'd remind you. Even if you've got Mina and that walking disaster hanging around, you're still trash. You've always been trash."
Syler's breathing grew shaky, but he didn't answer.
Kevin's smile curled with spite. "You know what really pisses me off? What they see in you. You're just the proof my mom cheated. The reason my family blew up. If it weren't for you, none of this would've happened."
Syler winced. His arms didn't drop, but his whole body was shaking.
Kevin leaned in closer, voice low and sharp. "Say something, huh? Or are you scared I'll tell them? Mina… Elias… You think they'd still treat you the same if they knew you were just some affair baby? Even if they stuck around, they'd never really look at you the same way. You'd always be the kid born from betrayal."
Finally, Syler forced himself to speak, voice trembling. "I'm not a mistake. And I'm not the one who ruined anything."
Kevin's eyes narrowed. "Then say it like you mean it, coward."
Syler didn't.
Kevin let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
He stood up and turned away. "Don't worry. I've got no interest in telling people we share blood. I wouldn't want anyone to know something that embarrassing."
He paused just long enough to glance back over his shoulder.
"Remember, Syler. You're trash. And you'll stay trash until I say otherwise."
Then he walked off, leaving Syler lying alone in the dirt.
After a few minutes, Syler sat up and began brushing himself off. His movements were methodical, practiced—his eyes distant. He was used to this.
He pulled out an old, scuffed cellphone and opened his contacts. His gaze lingered on the two names at the top: Elias and Mina. His thumb hovered over the call button beside each name, hesitating.
In the end, he exited the screen and tucked the phone away.
"Elias is in the hospital. Mina's with her family. I can't bother them with this," he muttered, rising shakily to his feet. He gripped his bruised, trembling arms.
"It's not like I can't handle it."
He straightened his clothes, ran a hand through his messy hair, and forced a familiar smile onto his face—one he'd worn too many times. Then, without looking back, he headed toward his next class.
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In another country, on the other side of the world, a teenage girl with short hair sat beside a sickly but thin middle-aged woman, gently spoon-feeding her in her bed. Nearby, a young boy—around 6 years old—watched quietly as he played with a toy car. Though his features hadn't fully developed, he already bore a strong resemblance to the ailing woman. The teenage girl, too, shared her nose and lips.
"That's enough, Mina!" the woman snapped, shakily pushing the spoon away and spilling its contents. "I can't eat anymore. I'll throw up if I do."
Her voice was rough, her eyes dim and exhausted.
Mina's gaze fell. She set the bowl and spoon aside, her heart sinking at her mother's frail, sunken form.
This was her mother—someone she hadn't seen in nearly three years. The strong, beautiful woman she once knew had been reduced to this shadow. Stomach cancer had taken nearly everything: her health, her spirit, and the glow she once carried.
"I want to rest," her mother said more quietly, rolling over in bed and turning her back to Mina.
Mina gave a reluctant hum and turned toward the little boy. "Kaoru, let's let Mom sleep. I'll take you on a walk, okay?" she asked, holding out her hand.
The boy looked at her hesitantly before shyly reaching out. "Sister," he said softly, his cheeks tinged with a blush.
Mina's eyes softened. Her little brother had inherited their mother's former delicate features. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy—she'd taken more after their father. And even if he was considered handsome, she hated that she resembled him. The thought alone soured her mood.
But seeing Kaoru try to bond with her—shy and sincere—melted some of the weight in her chest. She had the overwhelming urge to pinch his adorable cheeks but managed to restrain herself. She didn't want to scare him off.
Mina hadn't seen him since he was three. He barely remembered her, aside from the photos their mother had kept. Her face hadn't changed much, but she used to wear her hair long and dress more femininely. Despite that, Kaoru had studied those pictures often—curious about the sister he barely knew—so he still recognized her, even if the rest of her appearance had changed.
Mina slid open the shoji door, and she and Kaoru stepped into the vast stretch of gardens that connected the estate's many courtyards. This wasn't just a mansion—it was an ancestral estate built on wealth and tradition, the kind of place only seen in movies about royal dynasties or ancient clans that had never loosened their grip on power.
The interconnected courtyard houses formed a small, private world—each wing crafted with intricate wooden eaves, sliding paper walls, and winding stone paths. The gardens were immaculate. Exotic trees, sculpted bushes, and rare flowers in full bloom created a living painting, bursting with vibrant color and fragrance. Every inch of the estate whispered elegance, legacy, and an unmistakable air of superiority.
As they walked, Mina could feel eyes on her—dozens of them. Servants paused mid-task, distant cousins peered from porches or behind decorative latticework. The scrutiny was sharp and cold, like frost on her skin.
Whispers floated through the air.
"The Young Miss is back."
"Don't call her that—she left the clan."
"Maybe she finally came to her senses."
"Hah. As if. She turned her back on the family. She lost that title the moment she walked out."
Mina heard every word, but her expression didn't flicker. Her posture stayed poised, unbothered, as if their mutterings were nothing more than wind rustling through the bamboo.
Let them talk.
She had left on her own terms, and she didn't regret it. She didn't owe this place, or its people, anything—not an explanation, and certainly not her submission.
Suddenly, the doors of the main building slid open, and a man who looked to be in his early forties stepped out. He had a stern, handsome face, framed by a neatly trimmed beard peppered with black and gray. His hair was equally well-kept, and his posture was ramrod straight—carrying a quiet, regal pride that seemed woven into the very structure of his being.
The moment he appeared, everyone in the courtyard bowed deeply, no matter how far away they were. As long as he was in view, deference was absolute. Even Mina bowed out of habit, though her movement was slower, more deliberate.
When she raised her eyes, she stared at him from a distance, her gaze unreadable—layered with emotions she kept tightly leashed.
This was the leader of the clan—the man who, despite his younger appearance, had shaped their family's legacy over the past sixty years.
Her grandfather.
Akio Takayama.
Akio raised a hand, signaling for everyone to resume their duties, and continued walking toward another wing of the estate. At once, the crowd straightened and returned to their activities as if nothing had happened.
Mina's emotions churned. She and her grandfather had once been close. As a child, she would often sneak into his private garden to pick flowers or try to catch fish from his koi pond—despite his stern warnings. Back then, at least in her eyes, he seemed less like the clan's leader and more like a strict but patient guardian. But as she grew older, their beliefs began to diverge. Ideals clashed. Conversations grew colder.
She had felt almost betrayed when he first mentioned arranging a marriage for her. Although arranged marriages were a long-standing tradition in their clan—even her own parents' marriage had been one—a small part of her had always believed she was different. Special. That her grandfather would never impose such a future on her.
But perhaps it wasn't him who betrayed her. Maybe it was her own expectations. He hadn't changed. And neither of them was willing to bend. In the end, their relationship fractured—splintered by pride and principle.
And now, all she could do was watch him from afar—like a stranger.
She gave a small shake of her head, as if to scatter the unwanted thoughts. Turning to Kaoru, she smiled. "It feels a little stuffy here. How about we head out for a bit? I'll buy you some ice cream."
Kaoru's eyes lit up. "Ice cream?" he echoed, practically sparkling with excitement.
Mina chuckled at his expression. "Yes, ice cream," she confirmed, gently taking his hand and leading him toward the estate gates.
As the pair departed, Akio glanced over his shoulder. His gaze lingered on Mina's retreating figure, unreadable. Then, without a word or change in expression, he turned away and disappeared into another building.