Whenever Darwin's father was dissatisfied, he would drag him out to beat him.
His entire life was like a punching bag for him to vent his anger at will.
What a despicable man.
"Damn it! Why am I so unlucky?!"
Fists and kicks rained down on Darwin's thin body.
"...I'm sorry…"
Meanwhile, he could do nothing but lie there, taking the punches.
"Why did that bitch give birth to you!? And why do I have to be the one to raise you!"
Thud!
"It hurts…"
"Why doesn't anyone feel sorry for me!?"
The punches continued.
Darwin, lying there trembling, muttered like a dying person:
"I am wrong…dad. Please forgive me…"
That was Darwin's childhood.
While other children his age were bathed in sunlight, had plump bodies, and always had a sunny smile on their lips,…
…Darwin had to live in the dark.
Had a weak body.
And rarely smiled, let alone laughed out loud.
But, somehow, he was still able to survive through those days.
Because Darwin believed that…
