Little Heir

The night was cold. The rain had fallen all day, leaving the air thick with its strange yet soothing scent. Everything was drenched, swallowed by the aftermath of the downpour.

Everything… everyone drowned in the moment.

Except for one boy.

He was untouched by the rain. It seemed he had taken shelter during the storm, only now emerging as he walked home—limping.

His face was battered. Bruised on all edges. His pitch-black eyes reflected the void, hollow and unreadable. His hair, just as dark, was a matted mess, clinging to his forehead as if he had spent days in a dumpster.

His school uniform was torn, the sleeve of one arm hanging in tatters. His backpack, slung over his shoulder, had a broken strap, forcing him to carry it awkwardly. Each step was a struggle, his head lowered as he gritted his teeth and trudged through the wet, dimly lit streets.

It was late. The roads were near empty, the usual bustle of people reduced to an occasional passerby.

'How long…?'

'How long is this going to keep happening?'

'I'm tired of it all.'

The words echoed in his mind like a mantra.

He stopped, tilting his head back to stare at the velvety expanse of darkness looming above him. There was no space for him in this world. That was the message his eyes spoke, silent yet heavy with sorrow.

He was tired.

Very, very tired.

Anyone looking at him could tell—he had just come from yet another round of bullying.

Vincent leaned against the locked door of a convenience store, right at the corner where he would have normally turned to reach his street. But this time, he didn't move forward.

Instead, he slumped to the ground.

His shoulders shook as a frustrated sob escaped his lips.

He bit down on them—hard.

"I just want to die…"

His voice wavered, thick with raw emotion.

"I can't take it anymore! Please—just take my life!"

Thunder roared above him, rolling through the vast sky like a celestial beast answering his call. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt like the heavens had heard him.

He, too, was fooled by it—if only for a second.

His gaze lifted in faint surprise before his brows furrowed, his expression twisting into a frown.

"Damn it!" he yelled, voice hoarse. "I know you can hear me! I don't want this life anymore! Kill me! I hate this life!!"

His scream tore through the empty street, but this time, the sky was silent.

The only response was the thickening darkness, the air shifting as if preparing for another round of rain.

His schoolbag slipped off his shoulder, forgotten as he kept his gaze fixed upward. The vacant street stretched around him, void of any life.

His strength was fading.

His will… crumbling.

And who could blame him?

It all started the moment he transferred to Mureung High School.

---

Vincent had always been a regular, average guy.

He grew up in the countryside with his grandmother, barely knowing his parents. Much of what he knew came from her complaints—how irresponsible his father was, how she pitied his mother's soul for marrying such a man.

One way or another, he figured his father must have been a supreme jerk.

But despite that, life had been fine. Peaceful, even.

Until his grandmother's health began to decline.

He did everything he could. The village people helped too, but even with all their efforts, he couldn't gather enough money for her treatment.

Even with his mother's small inheritance, it was barely enough to keep them going for seventeen years—let alone cover medical expenses.

In the end, it wasn't enough.

She refused to let him sell what little they had left. She was old, she told him, her time had already come.

Vincent had known it, deep down. But knowing didn't make it any easier when she finally left him.

Alone.

The villagers urged him to go to the city, to pursue a good education and make something of himself. To make his mother and grandmother proud.

So he listened.

And now, he regretted it.

Because that decision was the reason he was here, beaten and broken, drowning in misery.

From the moment he stepped into Mureung High, life had been nothing short of hell.

The school was prestigious—too prestigious. A place for the children of politicians, congressmen, conglomerates. It was a community far beyond his understanding.

He didn't fit in. Couldn't fit in, no matter how much he tried.

With his 5'6" height, pale skin, dull eyes, and the ever-present curtain of hair over his face, he was the type of person that usually went unnoticed.

But he made a mistake.

On his very first day, he had stepped in to stop a group of students from bullying a poor, overweight kid.

Looking back…

"Was I stupid?"

What had he expected? That they would suddenly see reason? That his small act of defiance would change something?

No.

All it did was paint a target on his back.

His one act of heroism had cost him everything.

At the very least, he had earned a friend—a fat one who refused to leave his side.

Unfortunately, that just meant they were both bullied now.

Sometimes, the poor guy was forced to eat his lunch off Vincent's back. Strangely enough, he had grown shameless, begging even when he had done nothing wrong.

Hyunwoo didn't understand him at first.

But now, he did.

Living in an environment like this taught you shamelessness.

But even now, he still didn't understand why.

Why did people enjoy making others suffer?

Why would someone wake up and choose to torment another person when they could simply mind their own business?

It sucks.

It really, really sucks.

Vincent bit down on his lip, swallowing the bitterness creeping up his throat.

But what did it matter?

No one cared.

It wasn't like he had a family waiting for him at home.

He tilted his head back, letting the first few droplets of rain pelt his face.

His expression twisted, brows pulling together with a dangerous resolve.

"Yeah… let's just end it here."

It was pointless to keep going.

He had fought back. He had tried. He had done everything he could.

But nothing had changed.

Nothing would change.

Except—death.

Vincent slowly pushed himself up, groaning as pain flared in his side, his chest, his belly—even his butt.

Fucking hell.

That bastard had really done a number on him today, even making him sleep in a dumpster.

But guess what?

"No bullying for you tomorrow, motherfuckers!" he laughed, a twisted grin stretching across his face.

"Because you won't be seeing me again!"

---

The rain picked up, drumming against the pavement in a melancholic rhythm.

Vincent knew exactly where he wanted to die.

The abandoned power plant.

It was the perfect place. A forgotten ruin, surrounded by warning signs and electrical hazards.

He ignored them all.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moved forward.

The rain poured harder. Lightning streaked across the sky, crackling with raw energy.

Vincent tightened his fists.

"Grandma… Mom… I'm sorry."

He exhaled sharply, gaze locking onto the exposed wires.

And then—he ran.

A deafening clap of thunder split the air—lightning striking the power plant in a dazzling blue.

Vincent tripped—his hand missing the wire—

His head hit it instead.

Agony exploded through his body.

His nerves screamed. His skin burned.

Then—

[Congratulations on your awakening.]

[You have earned the title: 'Little Heir.']