I used to think that in this world, those who work hard are valued, and when they achieve results, everyone around them praises them.

But unfortunately, it seems the world isn't that simple.

When I was little, my world consisted only of my family and Guest, my childhood friend who lived nearby. Playing with my childhood friend at kindergarten, coming home to my parents, and occasionally my grandparents. Those were ordinary, happy days.

When I was five, my one and only younger brother was born. I was overjoyed to become a big brother, but he almost died right after birth and spent his life in the ICU under constant supervision. And though it couldn't be helped, my parents and all the other adults focused only on him.

Even so, I suppressed my feelings as a child, believing that once he grew up, they would look at me again like they used to.

Decades passed. My parents never looked at me once. And foolishly, it wasn't until I was eighteen that I finally realized. No matter how hard you work, how much you endure, or what results you achieve, becoming perfect is meaningless.

I am excellent in both academics and sports, have top grades, great athletic nerves, recommendations, and the deep trust of those around me.

My brother is sickly, unable to live without help, and a burden to everyone.

Sure, my brother is doing his best despite his illness. But does that make it right to ignore me?

And then, one night. On the way home from studying at cram school until late as usual, I cried.

At the fact that in this world, people who "make you want to support them" get more attention than "people who work hard."

I felt incredibly pathetic, as if everything I had done until now had been rejected. I see, that's how it is. A person who is a bit flawed feels more human and makes you want to support them compared to someone perfect. Myself, my parents, my brother—everything up until now started to seem ridiculous.

The adults around me don't look; they have no intention of looking.

In that case, if I do whatever I want—all the things I've suppressed and endured just to avoid causing trouble for my parents and those around me... surely I won't be punished for it.

That's what I thought.