"Really a couch potato. What do you mean by you can't do anymore. It's only 100 pushups."

"..*sob*..*sob*..I'm trying..please..don't beat me."

"Not until you complete the set."

The mildly old-looking father was beating his son with a stick ruthlessly.

"I have given you every possible facility yet you can't give me the only thing I asked of you."

Outside the duplex mansion, on the large green field, principal Aron of the Troy Academia was training his 8-year-old son Brock. Aron's skin still hasn't turned pale and

his hair recently started to white out. Beside the field was a huge garden, inside which a pedestal led toward the end gate.

Brock had great growth for his age and had the build a boy from a solvent family should have.

But the black and blue wounds were like badly done painting over his body.

The principal showed complete disgust

"I don't want to raise a worthless piece of shit. if you can't be what I want you can get out of here anytime."

The principal walked away, not even turning back to see if his yelping son was capable of standing up.

The marks of the beating were looking fierce. Brock was lying, sobbing yet not calling for help. He wasn't for obvious reasons.

The gardener woman, the family butler, and the gatekeeper were not far away from the scene but acted as if nothing happened and was doing their jobs.

The principal entered the cottage and slammed the door hard enough to hear it from the end gate.

Upon the principal entering, everyone rushed to Brock.

The gardener woman took him in her lap

"Shh...The wounds are in even worse shape this time."

Brock was still yelping"I will be better.Please.Please.I can't take it. Stop it."

The butler was trying to heal him. He wasn't professional and it was completely visible on his face.

"Really what could I expect from your womb? I married a pig to give birth to a lizard."

It was the principals yelling.

The gatekeeper sighed, "What a disgusting family!"

The butler couldn't hold back his tears

"He even got a fever. I could spit in this guy's face and leave this job any day. But I really can't. Just for this boy. how come a guy can be this cruel to his son."

Brock got back to his senses. He opened his eyes.

The gardener woman tried not to show her grief and said in a lovely tone

"Are you feeling better dear?"

Brock's vision got clear from blurry.

"You di...aah."

He collapsed trying to get up.

The butler held him

"No need to pressurize yourself."

"What are you people doing here? Dad will fire you if he finds you here. Please go. No need to worry for me. I don't want to lose you, people, as well."

Brock cried out.

None disagreed. They knew exactly what would happen if Aron sees them there. They clenched their teeth and saw this

child tortured every day. they can't leave they can't help.

Brock limped back home.

The Butler stared with a sorry look.

"You know, I have a son of the same age. I can't help thinking what if he was treated the same way."

The house looked decently royal. Red carpet.Antique show pieces and articrafts. Large sofa and paintings.

Entering the house, the housemaid stood in front of him.

"Your mother asked for your presence"

Her face felt emotionless. She held her head down and avoided eye contact.

Brock nodded and walked past her.

The house-made looked up and saw him walk toward his mother's room.

She got a lump in her throat. She had a pretty good idea of what is going to happen next.

Brock entered his mother's room. She was in her sleeping gown and taking a cigarette. She was middle-aged but looked older and clumsy, especially because

of her uncombed blonde hair and grumpy facial expression. It felt as if seeing Brock her gaze turned more tempered.

"Come here."

Brock obeyed.

His mother inspected up to the bottom, taking note of the scars.

The maid was staring close to the door trying to hear.

And then...she slapped him. Hard enough to knock his already weak body.

The maid clenched her eyes and teeth to gulp the ongoing inhumanity.

"YOU BASTARD. YOU CAN'T DO A SINGLE THING PROPERLY. IF THAT MONSTER BLAMES ME EVER AGAIN, YOU WILL FIND ME HANGING"

Brock didn't get back to his feet instantly. Rather wept silently.

Her mother calmed down, took the last puff of the cigar, and extinguished the butt.

"Get out of this room. Don't ruin my mood by showing your filthy face."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Brock stood up and opened the door. The maid was there and upon opening, she held her face down and got away from the gate robotically.

Brock got back to his room and washed his face. Looking in the mirror he saw someone new. Someone uglier than yesterday.

Getting back from the powder room, the maid was standing by his bed. She usually makes his bed and gets back to do her chores.

Brock's room was decent. A royal bed, a large study table, a punching bag and training instruments on one side, and some decoratives beside the west-facing window.

"Is something a matter?"Brock forced a smile.

"Young master, you should rest."

"Ah is it necessary? I am feeling completely fine."

"I appreciate your generosity, young master. But the fever is pitch high. I can even tell from here seeing how much you are sweating."

Brock wanted to counter-argue because if somehow his parents get to know this they won't go easy either to him or the maid.

But he felt dizzy enough to utter a word.

He went to the bed and before he could realize he was asleep.

Waking up he felt his forehead wet. He opened his eyelids to find the maid holding a bowl of soup in her hand. And it was a wet towel on his forehead.

"Are you feeling better? Can you eat on your own or I would assist?"

Brock tried to get up but a cracking pain in his head didn't let him.

The maid smiled sweetly and sat behind him feeding him the soup.

"I am going to put some bandages so it would heal faster."

Brock was still feeling down after suffering the regular behavior of his parent. But today his father kind of overdid it. But he was too nice not to thank

the maid for her support.

The next day Brock got ready to go to school. His body was full of band-aids.

He entered the school. It looked like a prestigious school looking at its exterior and interior delicacy. He went to the Troy junior academy, a sister school

of Troy academia. The school was simplistic.

Everyone stared at him when he entered. He directly went toward his locker without making eye contact.

But ears couldn't be driven.

"I bet he got into a fight again."

"His face is all black and blue."

"He might be the murderer of the recent murder of Diluc."

He tried to pretend he wasn't being bothered. But he was feeling more down and down. Everyone in the class avoided him.

He entered his class and sat on an empty bench. A pale boy sprung toward him. His eye almost popped out. He slowly advanced to Brock and took the beg from the bench

in front of Brock. Brock didn't look up but the boy kept staring with fear as if Brock was a cobra. He took the bag and ran to the first bench.

Brock could hear him crying, "God knows if I would have the victim of his homicide."

Brock didn't protest. He had anger issues from childhood. But he didn't want to cause a scene to create.

The teacher entered the class and before he could even reach his desk a guy in a coat came to the door. He glanced at Brock and moved his head toward

the teacher upon eye contact.

"I would like to talk a bit."

The teacher looked suspectfully

"Sure, please come in."

The guy walked into the teacher and tried to lower his voice but his tone was naturally loud.

"I am a father of Nora. I have heard you've got a goon in the class who scares everyone."

The teacher kinda hesitated. He knew it was Brock.

A boy from the front desk added

"Sir, he gets into fights daily."

Brock stood up hitting the bench

"LIAR!"

The man in the coat looked with disgust

"How ferocious!"

The teacher now pushed his glasses, "Well, Brock, if you don't get into fights, how do you manage those wounds every day?"

"It's because.."

Brock wouldn't expose about his father and his ill behavior here. His father had a reputation and he wouldn't destroy it.

He fell silent.

The teacher sighed

"Our suspicion was correct?.."

He faced the guardian

"We will try to fix our student sir. Please don't mind."

The guy still had a cold stare. He nodded and went out.

Brock was going to sit back but the teacher yelled

"STAND UP!"

Brock stood straight facing down

"How does even your father allows you these? You have come from a respectable family. How come you turned into this? If I get complain against you ever it's going to your father's ear. Get it?"

Brock nodded. He knew he had nothing to do.

The class ended at noon.

He got back home. His father was screaming

"When did I say I need an extra caretaker for my son? I tell you I am not paying for him"

It was his father to the butler inside the common room of their house.

"Don't worry sir. Please let him stay. He won't cause any trouble and you don't need to pay him."

His father got away from the house, not even giving a crap to Brock standing at the door.

He entered the room. A boy of his age was sitting beside him.

The butler smiled

"Oh, young master you are back. Let me introduce you to a new guest." He presented the young boy

The boy had an energetic look. He was black-haired, skinny, and looked energetic. He smiled at Brock and waved toward him.

The butler continued

"He will be assisting you from now on.

HIS NAME IS RYAN"