An emotion called "resentment," like subtle vines, began to quietly sprout in his young heart for the first time.
He resented this empty big house, resented the endless lessons that could never be finished, resented his mother's never-ending demands and those "struggles" that he couldn't understand...
He even began to vaguely resent the "father" he had only met a few times, always mentioned by his mother, yet seemed so unreachable.
If it weren't for him, if not for this special identity, would he not have to endure all of this?
Krista watched her son disappear behind the door, her gaze flickering with complexity. She looked down at the little dog in her hand, still twitching slightly, with no trace of pity, only a hint of irritation.
"Someone!" She called out loudly.
A woman dressed as a servant hurriedly ran out from the side door, bowing respectfully: "Ma'am."
