Daniel entered the grand dining room, the low hum of the chandelier's crystals swaying above barely masking the thick silence already settled at the table. His father sat at the head, rigid, formal, like a statue carved into dominance. Ben was already there, posture impeccable, the golden son.
Daniel took his seat without a word. He didn't need to speak; the silence here was a language in itself. His father poured himself a glass of red wine, not offering any to his sons. He preferred control even in the smallest rituals.
"I trust your day was productive," Mr. Nim said without looking up.
"Sure," Daniel replied simply, stabbing a piece of roast with unnecessary force.
Ben cleared his throat softly. "I had a meeting with the admissions officer from the Academy. They're reviewing my application."
"Of course they are," their father said. "They know talent when they see it."
Daniel didn't even blink. Inside, a dull bitterness curdled in his gut.
"And you, Daniel? Still playing the charming prince at school?"
Daniel smiled faintly, without warmth. "Something like that."
"Your professors say you're underperforming in mathematics. Again."
Daniel cut his meat methodically, not looking up. "They also say I'm exceptional in literature and social sciences."
"Flattery and empty rhetoric won't build an empire," his father snapped.
Ben glanced between them, uneasy. Daniel noted the movement. Puppy eyes. Always seeking approval.
"But it might destroy one," Daniel said calmly, taking a bite.
The tension thickened. Silverware against china filled the space their emotions couldn't. Mr. Nim leaned back.
"I brought you both here tonight because it's time you understood the future of this family. You are my legacy. Everything I've built must not be squandered."
Ben sat straighter. Eager. Predictable.
Daniel raised a brow. "And what exactly have you built, father? A reputation or a prison?"
A flash of annoyance crossed Mr. Nim's face. "Be careful how you speak."
"Oh, I am. Always."
Ben shifted in his seat. "Maybe this isn't the time—"
"Shut up, Ben," Daniel said, tone still soft, but eyes sharp. "Let father finish explaining how he's going to micromanage our lives in the name of legacy."
"You think you're clever," Mr. Nim said. "You think sarcasm is strength. But all I see is wasted potential."
Daniel leaned forward slightly. "And all I see is a man so obsessed with control that he can't tell the difference between loyalty and submission."
Silence.
Mr. Nim stared at him. "You're still under my roof. Still eating my food. Still wearing the name I gave you."
"Then maybe I'll change it," Daniel replied.
Ben spoke quickly, trying to mend. "Can we not do this tonight? Please?"
Daniel turned to him finally, a thin smile on his lips. "Poor Ben. Still thinks he's Switzerland."
Ben frowned. "I just want peace."
"Then you were born into the wrong family."
The rest of the dinner passed in a hostile quiet. Afterward, Daniel rose first, napkin left on his plate.
"Thanks for the meal," he said. "Father."
He left the room without waiting for a response, Ben watching him go, torn between admiration and resentment.
Daniel's footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. He would be gone soon anyway. Off to chase something that actually made him feel alive.
Someone.
She lived a few streets away, in a shabby but clean apartment. One of those girls you seduce with empty words and a well-placed gaze. She opened the door for me, dressed just for me. She believed it was another one of those nights when I came out of desire. She still believed things.
I didn't give her time to speak. She threw herself at my neck, I tipped her onto the bed. Our clothes came off quickly. My body against hers. Her warmth. Her moans. But all that was just a backdrop. A distraction.
When it was over, I stayed for a moment, lying next to her. She looked at me, full of hope, of expectation. Of foolishness.
The room still smelled of cheap perfume mixed with sweat. Half-drawn curtains let in a pale light that stretched shadows across the walls. The bed was unmade, creased by hasty movements, by bodies that hadn't sought each other but had used each other.
Daniel lay on his back, shirtless, staring at the ceiling as if already bored. He slowly drew on his cigarette, without a word. Beside him, the girl—brunette, slender, her gaze still hazy—sought some form of warmth in the silence. She attempted a smile, awkward, as she wrapped herself in the sheets.
"Do you want to talk a little?" she murmured.
He turned his head towards her, one eyebrow raised, as if she had just said something profoundly ridiculous.
"Talk? Now? You still have saliva to waste?"
She froze, embarrassed.
"I just thought that... maybe..."
He sat up, stood, naked, without shame. He picked up his briefs, put them on slowly.
"You thought? You? Fucking hell, that's new. You were better at moaning than thinking."
She blushed, hurt. Her eyes welled up.
"Daniel... why are you talking to me like that?"
He shrugged, walked over to the mirror to quickly smooth his tousled hair. Then he turned back to her, arms crossed, his face closed off.
"Because I'm fed up. With you. With your body. With your shitty attitude that believes a guy like me could get attached to a girl like you."
"But we... I thought it meant something to you, a little at least..."
He laughed. A cold, contemptuous laugh.
"Meant something? Are you serious? You think I fuck girls because they mean something? You're a hole, a game, a pastime. Nothing more."
"You... you said I was special."
"You were. For five minutes. Now you're just another slut. A bitch who thought she could be saved."
She covered her face with her hands, tears slipping between her fingers.
"You can't... you can't say that to me after what we just did..."
"I can say anything. I owe you nothing. And I already told you: I'm not your guy, or your savior, or your fucking prince charming dream. I'm your wake-up call. Brutal, yeah. But honest."
He approached the bed, leaned towards her.
"Look at me carefully. Look closely at what you thought you loved. And remember this next time you open your legs thinking a guy will respect you."
She hit him. Weakly. He barely recoiled, then smiled.
"You've at least got some nerve. Too bad it's useless."
He grabbed his shirt, put it on calmly, then headed towards the door. Before leaving, he turned back one last time.
"It's not against you, you know. It's just that I found another toy. A new girl to break. But you can be proud, really. You entertained me well."
He left, closing the door behind him, a smile on his lips. In the room, the girl's stifled sobs were lost in the sheets, like an echo he had already forgotten.