The lights of the grand Devils Stadium blazed like a thousand suns. A hundred thousand spectators filled the seats, the energy of their whispers trembling through the air as if the entire world was waiting for a single voice. At the center of it all stood the stage, gleaming under the spotlight. Tonight, the world's most unexpected reality show was unfolding—"Is This a Happy Family?"
It was a simple concept. Families from around the world gathered to prove who among them could be called the happiest. Normally, such a small production wouldn't stir any attention beyond a few local channels. But tonight was different. Tonight, the show had something—or rather, someone—that made it explode into global headlines.
That someone was Sophia.
---
She was more than just a star. She was a phenomenon. The queen of cinema who conquered the international stage, a Golden Horse Best Actress, an award-winning screenwriter and composer, and one of the world's most innovative fashion voices. To the people, she was more than talent—she was a goddess. She had donated over ten billion to save sick and dying children. She stood at the pinnacle of the entertainment industry not because of scandal or gossip, but because of raw, undeniable strength.
In the West, they called her a miracle, a wizard of the screen. In surveys of the most beloved international stars, she dominated with 60% of the global vote, crushing supermodels and pop idols alike.
Tonight, she stepped forward not as an actress, not as a star, but as a daughter.
---
The host's voice shook as she announced her name. "Please welcome, the superstar mentor of this program, Ms. Sophia."
The crowd erupted. Applause rolled like thunder.
And then she appeared.
A tall woman, nearly 1.75 meters in height, glided forward in a flowing blue dress. Her beauty was surreal—skin as fair as moonlight, features so flawless they had become the blueprint for countless plastic surgeons, eyes that shimmered with elegance but carried a warrior's defiance. She didn't walk. She ruled the stage. In her presence, the stadium fell into reverent silence.
Holding the microphone, Sophia's voice was calm, but it carried a blade hidden beneath silk.
---
"The reason I came here," she began, "was to open my heart. I did not come for fame, or for money, but because of my father. My father was… useless. His education was poor, his spirit weaker still. As a child, I felt nothing but disappointment and shame being his daughter. Tonight, I want to see what a true, loving family looks like—something I never had."
Gasps rippled through the audience. Even the cameras hesitated, not expecting such rawness.
She went on, her tone sharpening.
"Many of you think I am successful. But in my father's heart, I was always worthless. He mocked me. He ridiculed me. His words cut sharper than any blade. I grew up treating him as an enemy, locked in a lifelong battle. Because of his laziness, my mother died young. Because of his failures, my childhood was nothing but loneliness and endless homework. While other children laughed, I drowned in despair."
Her voice wavered, but only for a second. She straightened, staring into the sea of faces.
"When I was discovered by talent scouts, he sneered. He told me I'd never make it. But when I succeeded, when my name lit up the world, suddenly he came crawling—demanding money, demanding support. When I refused once, he flew into rage. This is my father. From birth until now, I never felt his love. I only felt chains."
The stadium froze.
---
For a long moment, no one dared to breathe. Then voices rose from the crowd—young people, fans who had followed her journey for years.
"Sophia, you don't need him—you're the best!"
"Yes! You are our light, the brightest star of this generation!"
"Don't let his narrow heart darken you!"
The chants grew louder, but Sophia lifted her hand, and the noise melted into silence again.
"My team and I arranged something," she continued. "After each contestant is judged, a film of my childhood will play. You will see my pain, my struggles, the truth of what I endured. We invited neighbors and witnesses to recreate it perfectly. I want children of broken families to know—we can still rise without our parents. We can still win."
The stadium exploded into applause, the kind that shook rafters. Tears glittered in the eyes of many.
She bowed deeply.
And in that moment, no one noticed the old man sitting quietly in the shadows of the last row.
---
His name was Victor.
Once, decades ago, he had been strong—tall, broad-shouldered, a man whose eyes could command respect. But time had carved deep lines into his skin, and sickness had hollowed his body. His hands, scarred from years of hard labor, trembled as he tried to stifle a cough.
He was no ordinary father. He was a man out of place, a transmigrator. Born in another world, raised in an orphanage, he had clawed his way through life with nothing but grit. In his thirties, he was a rising executive, strong and proud. Until cancer struck. His wife abandoned him. His career crumbled. And all he had left was a little girl—Sophia, barely three years old.
In that moment, holding her in his arms, he made a vow: to live, no matter what, to protect her at all costs.
---
He pushed his broken body through hell.
He became a drug tester, an odd-job worker, a man who would do anything to scrape money together for his daughter's education. He ran until his lungs burned, lifted until his muscles tore, worked until his bones screamed. Every coin, every drop of blood, was for her.
But fate is cruel. Now, in his fifties, the disease had returned, fiercer than ever. The fire in his chest never left. He knew the end was near.
And yet, tonight he came. Not for redemption. Not to argue. Only for one last look at his daughter, now standing like a queen before the world.
---
As he sat there, a strange voice echoed in his mind.
[Life Screen Playback Activated.]
[The film your daughter arranged will not be fabricated—it will be truth. Her memories will collide with your reality. She will see everything. And the world will see too.]
Victor closed his eyes. His body was failing, but his spirit held. He didn't care what the crowd thought. He didn't care about judgment. All he wanted… was to see her one last time before the light left his eyes.
He had endured too much. Too many battles against sickness, hunger, despair. His only pride was that he had kept breathing long enough to see this moment.
And so, while the world celebrated Sophia's brilliance, the dying man in the shadows waited.
Waited for the truth to finally be revealed.