August De Reffilian was never the type to let things slide easily. So when his eldest brother, July, walked away with the family's entire inheritance, leaving him the scraps, it felt like a punch to the gut.

He walked down the streets of the huge city, tall buildings surrounding him entirely along with the setting sun. 

August walked rapidly down the city sidewalk, losing the tie his father gave him. He hated this tie more than anything; it had always been so suffocating.

He tugged it loose in frustration, not caring if he looked disheveled in his expensive suit. 

His foot lashed out, kicking over a trash can that clattered against the sidewalk, but it didn't do much to vent his anger. He was pissed.

He had lost all those years of competing with his brothers, sacrificing his own wants for the family business, and what did he have to show for it? 

A makeup company. 

A makeup company. 

Not even something he'd touched before, let alone knew how to run. Meanwhile, July got the conglomerate, the Reffilian name and everything it represented: power, prestige, control over their father's empire. June, the eldest triplet, hadn't done too poorly either—he got the tech arm, including that sleek, multimillion-dollar audio line everyone was talking about. And what did August get? 

A lipstick factory and some material assets.

He walked, stewing in frustration, hands stuffed into his pockets as the cool evening air nipped at him. The streets of the city were alive with people going about their lives, utterly oblivious to his personal hell. 

Lucky bastards.  

The buzzing of his phone yanked him from his spiraling thoughts. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was his mom. 

He honestly didn't feel like even acknowledging another person right now; however, his fingers clicked for the call to be received anyway. 

"Hey, honey," her soft voice filtered through the receiver as soon as he answered. "Just checking in on you. I know today was… tough."

August inhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. His mother had always been a source of comfort for him. A memory that his brothers never let him forget was when they visited a farm, and a duck attacked him, leaving him with two scraped, bloody knees and a bruised ego. 

After being made fun of by some of the other kids and the dissatisfaction from his father, he was too angry to even get his knees checked. 

It had been his mother who got him out of his funk and saved him from suffering from an infection.

The sweet voice was always there through the chaos. She never played favorites, always had time for all three of them, unlike their father, who had a more… tactical approach to parenting. His dad was all about tough love—emphasis on the tough. You had to earn everything in the Reffilian household, even basic affection sometimes.

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"Yeah, Mom," August said, his voice softening as he walked past a parked car, barely noticing when a sedan nearly clipped him as it swerved to avoid a cyclist. He jumped back with a curse under his breath, but his mom didn't hear it.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just disappointed?"

"You're stronger than you think, August. I believe in you," she said, and it was the same warmth that always kept him from spiraling too far down the hole. "Remember, if you need to talk, I'm always here."

"I know," he said, his throat tightening unexpectedly. He hung up quicker than he intended to, not trusting himself to keep his voice steady. God, he hated this. It was bad enough losing to July and June, but now he was a grown man on the verge of tears in the middle of a crowded street. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and kept walking.

The looming glass and steel structure of his penthouse came into view, and relief washed over him. At least he still had this—a reminder of his previous successes. He had bought this in an expensive part of the city that June had been looking at for a while, which slowly snowballed into a big competition that August eventually won. 

But it felt empty now. All that work, all the sacrifices, and it hadn't been enough. He stepped into the elevator, the soft hum of the motor doing little to soothe his thoughts.

By the time he reached his door, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The moment he stepped inside, the cold, modern interior of his penthouse only amplified the emptiness. It was spacious and minimalistic, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. But tonight, it felt like a cage. He dropped his jacket carelessly onto a chair and made a beeline for his bed, collapsing onto it with a sigh that was more frustration than relief.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, he nearly ignored it—until he saw what the notification was.

A new update: Halfway Through Black and White

His heart skipped a beat. A tiny spark of excitement flickered to life, cutting through the bleakness of the day. It was the only thing that could pull him out of his misery right now. He opened the app without a second thought, eyes scanning the notification. Chapter 341, The Final Chapter.

August laid back against his pillows, gripping the phone as he opened the file. The familiar words filled the screen, and as he read the lines, his heart raced, his pulse quickening with each passing sentence. 

Seriously, there was nothing in the world that got him as pumped other than baseball. 

Gaius, the hero of the story, and his party—Nai, Treble, Feon, and Hamilton—stood at the precipice of their greatest challenge yet. They were about to face Hydrion, the hidden leader of the Tainted Doves. He had been manipulating and toying with Gaius behind the scenes for years, and now it was time for their first confrontation together.

The final battle that decided the fate of the world! 

His mood lifted as the story unfolded, Gaius leading his team with the confidence and maturity August admired so much. 

If I was only half as prepared as this guy, I wouldn't have lost to July.

As Gaius gave his speech to his group with words of determination, August couldn't help but compare himself to him. Gaius had faced overwhelming odds, countless betrayals, and impossible challenges, but he always found a way to win. 

To rise above.

If Gaius had been in his place, fighting for the inheritance, there was no doubt in August's mind that he would have taken it all.

But as he scrolled to the last few lines, his excitement turned into confusion, then frustration. 

The battle scene built to a fever pitch, tension mounting with every word… and then it ended. Just like that. No resolution, no final blow, no conclusion. 

Just an open-ended, infuriatingly ambiguous final note. Did Gaius win? Did Hydrion escape? 

What the hell had just happened???

August stared at the screen, disbelief coursing through him. He sat up, tossing the phone onto the bed. His chest tightened a bit, and he bit his lip. 

How could the author leave it like that? After all these years of following the story, of rooting for Gaius, this was how it ended? 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. He knew, deep down, that it was a brilliant move—leaving the fans to speculate, to argue, to piece together the puzzle themselves. But still, it stung. He felt cheated. 

He would still say the author wrote the best piece of literature since Shakespeare, but seriously??

For a while, he just sat there, staring at the screen. Slowly, his frustration gave way to something more reflective. He began to think about Gaius again. 

He never backed down, never lost his cool. He was smart and strategic. Even now, when he was face to face with the person who caused him so much suffering, he still fought him admirably, with no complaint. 

August ruffled his hair while his fingers tapped the edge of his phone. "I'm no Gaius," he muttered, shaking his head. He wasn't the hero who always came out on top. Hell, he wasn't even second best. But he couldn't just sit here and wallow in his own self-pity. There was still a part of him that wanted to prove himself, to make the best out of the shitty hand he'd been dealt. 

After all, his father may have raised bastards, but not quitters. 

Fine, I'll figure it out. I'll do the best with what I've got.

But even as he tried to psych himself up, his mood darkened again. He reached for his headphones, the sleek red logo of a polar tiger looking at him with pity. 

The brand—their father's brand, June's brand—mocked him. 

He threw them and could faintly hear them likely break. He would go complain about durability concerns tomorrow. 

He laid back down, pressing his palms against his tired eyes. He didn't want to deal with any of this anymore. The empty apartment, the crushing weight of failure—it was too much. All he wanted was to escape, even if just for a moment. 

"I wish I was like Gaius," he mumbled, the words barely a whisper as exhaustion crept in.

Sleep took him faster than he expected, dragging him under before he could dwell on the mess his life had become.