The bedroom door flew open, stirring up a gust of wind that sent the curtains billowing.
Yan Sui was breathing slightly heavily as she looked around her room.
Just as it had been before she left, it was completely empty.
She picked up the homework she had forgotten on the desk.
Her gaze swept casually around the room before finally stopping on the windowsill.
The window seemed to be opened a little wider than it had been when she left.
Was it just her imagination?
Blinking, she leaned out and looked below.
This was the third floor. A normal person probably wouldn’t die from a fall, but they certainly wouldn’t walk away unscathed.
Yet there was no one below now.
Not even the slightest trace of anyone.
She shut the window, then hurried out again, jogging toward the school building.
Beneath the eaves downstairs, hidden within layers of shadows, a man clutched his wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire body trembling from excitement and fear.
The next second, intense self-loathing stained those crimson eyes.
He swallowed a pill and made a phone call in a hoarse voice.
“Tell Dr. Song to come over.”
Song Ming’an sat in the private reception lounge at Jiang Corporation’s headquarters, flipping through the records in his hands.
Everyone knew that the young master of the Jiang family was abnormal—unpredictable, cold, and ruthless.
Only Song Ming’an knew just how insane he was, how close he constantly stood to collapse, and—
How restrained he truly was.
The door opened.
The moment he saw who entered, Song Ming’an frowned.
“How long has it been since you slept?”
The bloodshot eyes shifted slowly and sluggishly.
After a long pause, a hoarse voice answered.
“I don’t remember. Two days. Maybe longer.”
Song Ming’an’s frown deepened.
He watched as the man sat down on the sofa, shadows cast heavily across his features beneath the overhead lights. His fingertips twitched noticeably from anxiety.
Beneath his sleeve, fresh and vicious-looking scars could be seen.
“It’s gotten worse again? Why? You’ve been relatively stable all this time. Did you stop taking your medication?”
“I stopped the sleeping pills. Not the sedatives.”
“Why stop the sleeping pills?”
“…I couldn’t bear to sleep.”
Song Ming’an froze.
He looked him over from head to toe.
“You… have a new variable in your life? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I thought it was controllable.”
Controllable.
Looking at the scars peeking from beneath his sleeve, Song Ming’an felt an even bigger headache coming on.
“You’re controlling it by hurting yourself again?”
This kind of behavior had disappeared when Jiang Yuan was fourteen years old.
“I thought I could.”
The man slumped into the sofa suddenly raised his head.
“I have to be able to. Increase the dosage. I don’t want to continue like this.”
Only then did Song Ming’an realize what was wrong with his eyes.
It was the sluggishness and drowsiness caused by medication overuse.
“Impossible.”
Song Ming’an shook his head.
“A year ago, after you took that position, we finally managed to reduce your dosage from dangerous levels. If we increase it again, things could get worse.”
Jiang Yuan’s expression remained blank.
“I won’t die.”
Song Ming’an sighed.
“…If you’re willing, you can tell me what this new variable is.”
Jiang Yuan lowered his eyes and remained silent.
Song Ming’an continued,
“Fine. Then why don’t we handle it the way you used to?
“You could simply make all variables disappear from your sight. Remove the source of what’s making your condition worse. Why not—”
“Song Ming’an.”
Jiang Yuan suddenly interrupted him.
He lifted his eyes sharply and spoke word by word.
“I don’t want to repeat it.”
Song Ming’an froze.
For a moment, it felt as though a venomous snake had lunged directly at him, flicking its poisonous tongue and carrying with it a cold, bloody stench.
Even though he considered himself one of Jiang Yuan’s few friends, he still felt fear.
After taking a long breath, Song Ming’an jotted down a few notes.
“Fine. I’ll change your medication. But I’ll only give you one week’s worth. I’ll come back next week.
“The new medicine may cause cognitive slowing, emotional dullness, communication difficulties, and other side effects.
“To make sure the medication works and to keep the side effects under control, I want you to participate in some social activities. Experience noisy environments and situations that require interaction. Tell me exactly how you feel so I can adjust the treatment accordingly.”
Jiang Yuan nodded slowly.
Song Ming’an asked one final time,
“You do want to stay alive, right?”
To his surprise, Jiang Yuan smiled.
“Of course. More than anyone else, I want to live.”
Song Ming’an pressed his lips together.
“I understand.”
The fact that he was still alive truly was a miracle.
After reminding him once more about dosage and precautions, Song Ming’an left.
Jiang Yuan remained sunk into the sofa for a long time.
Perhaps because the medication was beginning to take effect, everything around him seemed to grow distant and numb.
The sick, twisted impulse surging within him gradually became obscured by a thick fog.
In his haze, it felt as though he had returned to that pitch-black night more than ten years ago.
Soil filled his mouth and nose.
He cried and begged desperately, tilting his head upward, but the woman who had given birth to him never stopped.
The overwhelming fear and suffocation gradually robbed him of all sensation.
The soil slowly buried his head.
Darkness and coldness flooded over him from every direction.
Countless hands dragged him toward hell.
He didn’t know how much time had passed.
Just as the last bit of oxygen in his lungs was about to disappear, the soil above him suddenly shifted.
A pair of unfamiliar, bright eyes appeared.
Eyes as luminous as the moon.
“Hm?”
A soft, childish voice sounded with curiosity.
“Are you still alive?”
His entire body shuddered violently as he snapped back to reality.
Only then did he realize that his fingers had unconsciously slipped into the pocket closest to his heart.
Wrapped around them was that strand of hair, warmed by his body temperature.
He wound it tighter and tighter.
Snap.
The hair broke.
The sound was almost inaudible, yet it struck him like a piercing shriek ringing through his ears.
The pale man seemed startled by that imaginary scream.
His hand trembled, knocking a glass from the coffee table.
The glass shattered.
Without expression, he gripped the broken shard as though punishing himself.
Bright red blood flowed from his palm, winding down his pale, slender fingers.
His chest rose and fell violently.
Again and again, through the pain, he told himself:
Stop doing such disgusting things.
Do you deserve it?
…
When his emotions finally settled, he casually wiped the blood from his fingertips.
At least he had not forgotten Song Ming’an’s words.
He picked up the phone and called his secretary.
“What invitations do I have recently?”
“President Jiang, there are quite a few. The nearest one is a charity banquet tomorrow evening.”
“Make arrangements.”
“Yes, sir.”
After a full day of classes, Yan Sui returned home.
Along the way, she found it strange that she hadn’t felt anyone watching her all day.
As she approached the front door, she heard He Wan’s voice.
“Yan Sui must be sent away within a month.”
Lin Jian replied,
“Several business partners have already commented on how pretty that girl is.”
“Even better.”
He Wan sneered.
“She’s only been back a few days and strange things are already happening in this house. She’s nothing but bad luck.”
Lin Jian said,
“I’ll introduce her to people tomorrow. Maybe some bigger boss will take a liking to her. Teach her some proper etiquette.”
Yan Sui pushed open the door.
Lin Jian glanced at her and simply said,
“Learn properly.”
Then he went upstairs.
Holding a ruler in her hand, He Wan looked over with a smile.
“Suisui, your father is taking you to a banquet tomorrow. But you don’t understand anything, and you’ll embarrass our family.
“Come. Auntie will personally teach you some etiquette today.”
A tall man stepped behind Yan Sui and violently shoved her shoulder.
The little girl stumbled aside.
Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.