"Who am I? Where am I? And who is this person in front of me? Why is he acting that way?"
Thoughts raced through the mind of the teenager with white hair and sleeping eyes. In front of him stood a man, also with white hair, yelling at him furiously and scolding him. Then memories flashed in the boy's mind—"So this is my father."
Unaware of the events that had led to the man's rage, the boy lowered his head as if guilty. In truth, however, he was searching through memories.
"Shion, you unfilial son!" roared the father. Who would have thought this man was actually his parent? His harsh treatment could hardly be recognized as fatherly. Yet everything had its cause, isn't it?
"You little bastard! Do you realize your actions will draw dangerous attention in these times? And still, you decided to risk the future of the Ranus family for a girl? You disgrace! I was already ashamed to call you my son, but with the royal decree expelling you from the family, things will be easier for us. From this day forward, I don't want to see you or your mother again…"
He wanted to continue berating him until he noticed his son's cold black eyes, staring at him with coldly—as if death is staring at him with no light within it so the father's heart was shaking violently before the eyes returns to silver as it should be.
Shion spoke:
"Fine, Head of the Family. I'll take what belongs to me, but I also want you to pay me my dues. In the end, I was still a noble, and this is my right. Or will you ignore the kingdom's laws?"
The father was taken aback. Wasn't this boy the scum of the family? Why did he suddenly feel such pressure from him, as though he could not resist? After regaining his composure, he replied:
"Your dues will be waiting outside, along with the carriage that will take you to your destination."
"Then I'll excuse myself."
Shion left the room quickly, ignoring his father's stunned expression. Deep inside, Shion felt resentment—towards himself, towards the family head, and towards the entire household.
As he headed to his chamber to gather his belongings, he was greeted by mocking and scornful glances from servants and guards, as though they were celebrating his departure from the mansion. Shion understood all too well.
Through his memories, he realized his background was quite humble—his mother had been a servant of the estate. If not for being the family head's son, he would have been expelled long ago. Still, he had been despicable in the past—the least talented among his siblings, failing his first year at the academy, and after a scandal judged by the princess, branded guilty. Now, he was considered the disgrace of the entire kingdom.
Ignoring the stares, he entered his room. It was lavish, suitable for a spoiled noble boy, but nothing inside suggested he was worthy of respect. Opening his wardrobe, he found fine clothes that reflected his former status. On the wall hung a painting commissioned by his father—a family portrait.
But this was not the original. The first one had angered his father, who had it redone. In that original, Shion had appeared as he was then: pale, frail, with white hair and pale eyes. But in this version, the artist had depicted a strong, heroic young man radiating confidence, as though capable of anything.
Looking at it, Shion thought to himself:
"Even if I am pathetic now, I will surpass what this painting represents. I don't know what exactly happened to me, but I am no longer that wretch. I will do everything I can until I am satisfied with myself."
He swore an oath, packed his belongings into a bag, and noticed a small dagger on the table—ordinary and plain, but sharp enough. He strapped it to his waist.
As he stepped outside, one of the maids blocked his way with a mocking smile. Before she could say anything, Shion ordered coldly:
"Out of my way."
She defied him with scorn:
"I serve Lady Ranus, not you, you stray—ah!"
Before she finished, a slap fell on her face roughly so she fell on the ground and with no word, he kicked her aside with scorn.
The servants and guards rushed to surround him, but he raised his voice:
"Even though I am leaving, until the decree is executed and I receive my dues, I am still part of this family. For insects like you to block me and interfere with official matters means I can handle you however I see fit. Even your family head can do nothing to delay my expulsion. If I wish, I could summon the royal guards to chain you all!"
The servants and guards froze, glaring at him with hate but unable to act. Shion sneered and added:
"Take this bitch and tell your foolish mistress to leash her properly. Tell her I've helped tame her."
He walked through the mansion's corridors. Just as he was about to leave, a woman's furious voice called from behind:
"Shion, you little bastard! What have you done to my maid?!"
Shion replied cheerfully:
"Oh, I forgot—bugs can't talk. I'll answer in their place. That dog barked at me, so I disciplined it. No need to thank me."
"What?!" she glared at him.
With feigned pity, Shion said:
"You seem a little ill, unable to hear my clear voice. You should see a doctor quickly, or you won't be able to distinguish between the voices of your kids and think they are bugs not dogs."
"Shut up, son of a servant!" she spat, expecting him to feel humiliated. But instead, she was met with his look of contempt.
"My mother may be a servant, but she worked with dignity and bound herself to no one but me. Unlike certain people who were abandoned by their families, sold for money, and then foolishly thought they could return. Ah, by the way—I truly thank the family who only stood with us in times of celebration, never in hardship. Watching you unable to raise your head before the family head is truly delightful. So please, thank your family on my behalf."
His words struck her like lightning. Her body trembled, paralyzed by shock and shame, until she collapsed with a pale face. "Milady!" servants rushed to her aid, leaving Shion to step out freely through the gates.
In one of the quiet corners of the mansion, far from the clamor of orders and the echoes left behind by the departing servants, a woman sat enveloped in silence. She seemed to drift in her own world, gazing at the sky through the tall windows, as though she wished fate would grant her days of peace—for herself, and for her children.
But the stillness did not last long. A servant approached with hesitant steps, bowed respectfully, and said softly,
"My lady…"
The woman lifted her eyes toward him, her expression calm, and gave a gentle nod, granting him permission to speak.
Swallowing nervously, he continued,
"Shion Ranus has left… but there is something strange. It was as though he wasn't himself—the man we've always known. He seemed… changed."
Surprise flickered across her face, and for a moment, her composure faltered. Changed? Now? What use was change when one was already standing at the edge of exile, condemned by a verdict and the hidden will of the family head?
Her voice came out low, tinged with bitterness:
"Even if he is trying to change, it will serve him no good now. Everyone has already decided—his expulsion is inevitable."
But the servant did not look convinced. After a brief hesitation, he added, his tone more anxious than before:
"My lady… it wasn't just his departure. Before leaving through the gates… he insulted everyone."
The woman gasped softly, her heart tightening with sudden unease. Rising swiftly to her feet, she hurried toward the window. From behind the glass, watching what will happen next.
As Shion stepped through the gates, he entered the grand gardens of the Ranus estate. They were breathtaking—rows of vibrant flowers, neatly trimmed trees, fountains lined with birds, and cozy resting spots. Yet for Shion, all this beauty was soured by the sight that awaited him at a distance.
There stood his father, trying to justify his decision, surrounded by four new faces. Two of them—a brother and sister—radiated arrogance, though beneath the façade they were as useless as their disgraced mother. The other two were still children, brown-haired and quiet, their gentle aura starkly different from their siblings'.
Shion's gaze drifted upward to a window. Behind it stood the calm, soft-eyed woman he remembered—the mother of those children. Worry shadowed her face, fear for her son and daughter plain in her expression. Shion felt like a curse looming over them, recalling the cruelty his former self had inflicted on the two young ones.
She had endured much. As the second wife, from a fallen kingdom, she was treated like a refugee. The first wife mocked her relentlessly, and Shion's father never once consoled her. She remained only for her children's sake. A pang of guilt pierced Shion's heart. "What a pitiful woman… I was once part of her torment."
But there was no time for reflection—his attention turned to the gathering awaiting him. Among them were royal guards, towering figures whose presence exuded authority, unlike the petty household guards. With them stood a dignified man in his thirties, holding a parchment. Shion instantly recognized it as the royal decree of his banishment. Beside it lay a chest of gold—his so-called compensation. And behind them stood a finely crafted carriage, pulled by powerful steeds, befitting the royal guard's status.
What drew his eyes most, however, was not the decree or the money—but the faint sound of sobbing from within the carriage. Shion's chest tightened. His mother was inside.
A storm of emotions crashed over him—regret, sorrow, fury at his former self. "If one is to hate the whole world, fine. But to hurt your own mother… unforgivable." He clenched his fists, swallowing the bitterness, then stepped forward toward the royal official to sign the decree.
"Hey, brat, won't you say farewell or something?" his elder brother sneered.
Shion ignored him. He took the quill, scrawled his name, and felt a strange relief—as though signing a deal of a lifetime. A smile tugged at his lips.
"And with this," his father declared solemnly, "you will carry the family name alone, without rights to inheritance or position. Should you one day wish to return, you must live diligently, repent for your mistakes, and only then will we consider accepting you back. Good luck, my son."
Shion's gaze turned sharp. If not for blood, I'd teach you how to stop spewing hypocrisy. Instead, with suppressed rage, he replied coolly:
"Your wife is waiting inside to prepare your wine and food. Don't keep her waiting."
It was an audacious remark, dripping with insolence. Yet his father forced an expression of false humility, as though the insult had not landed.
"In life, you will one day find a wife of your own. Treat her with humility and respect. That is my advice."
Shion bit back laughter, though his eyes blazed. Before he could retort, a servant stumbled out in a panic, rushing to the family head.
"Sir! Sir! Our lady is in danger—she has collapsed! She needs a doctor, quickly!"
The man's face drained of color. Shion, standing nearby, could barely contain his smirk.