But to Liam, he had never even met this great-aunt of his. Not even a name―nothing. Not in his lifetime, not even as a child. He couldn’t even say no. He couldn’t even throw a punch to release the anger he had been suppressing all his life. A father who was nothing but a businessman and a womanizer. And a mother who kept travelling for fame as an actress. Both of them have no shame, no conscience, and have left him all alone with the maids. 

If he were to ask himself again, when was the last time they even spent his birthday? It almost made him laugh, bitter and hollow―mad to the bone. But he couldn’t even do it now. Not like this. Ruined. Suffering. 

A choking spasm made Liam cry out. Anton’s eyes grew wide in shock. In haste, he searched for the bed control panel and found it behind the bed. He pressed the green button, and slowly the bed rose into a sitting position, allowing Liam to breathe comfortably. Even then, it was hard to inhale. Broken ribs made him groan momentarily, and saliva dripped down from his lips, staining his hospital gown. The food on the bedside table went cold. 

Anton held back his tears. With trembling strength, Liam gripped Anton’s right hand. “W-wa…ter…” His voice sounded strained, broken, and weak. Quickly, Anton grabbed the plastic cup with water. He tried to let Liam drink, but the water spilled from his mouth. Coughing, and a trace of blood came out. Anton pressed his lips together. His anger simmered within. He couldn’t even show how worried he was for the young sir. So, he took the plastic spoon, filled it with water, and slowly fed Liam. 

Carefully, he took the table napkin and gently dabbed Liam’s busted, swollen lips. Young sir, he thought, heart aching. It was hard for him to find the right words―words that might make Liam feel he was not alone. 

Anton was twenty-one when he met the young sir, Liam, who was ten at that time. When his uncle showed him around the garden, he saw Liam, alone under a tree, reading a book. From a distance, he looked neat, like a child who had never even broken a glass. 

He asked his uncle the young sir’s name. Liam Park, that was it. Anton found himself captivated by the child’s innocence. Though it was a simple scene, it looked like a portrait painted by an artist's beautiful hands. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder where his parents were. 

Days passed. Seasons changed. Anton rarely saw Liam’s parents around. If they were present, they would stay only a night, never sparing even a moment with their own son, not even asking how he was. Maybe, they did ask…through the young sir’s nanny. 

But then, how awful it must have been for a lonely child, surrounded by toys yet deprived of the warmth of a loving family. 

When Liam was sixteen, Anton became his driver. His parents were always away, gone for three to six months at most. If there were problems in school, it was their attorney who handled the settlements. No wonder Liam had grown distant, isolated, and constantly a target of scrutiny. 

There were days when Anton picked him from school, Liam was drenched in the fetid stench of dirty mop water, a loose button and a swollen nose. He had asked once, but Liam had never opened his heart, never shared his pain, not even at home. Despite the silence, Anton remained by his side. Of course, the salary was top-notch, but working in a mansion that almost felt like a dying home was nothing compared to the worst part: Liam never even left his room. 

So Anton promised himself that until Liam could stand on his two feet, he would stay by his side. Because to him―Liam was a child, a person who deserved to be happy and free. 

Liam coughed softly, tapping Anton’s right hand, refusing the water. “I-Im…o-kay, n-now…” he said, swallowing gently. The hum of the air conditioner brought a quiet ease to the room. 

Anton placed the plastic cup on the bedside table, and Liam watched him quietly. Somehow, he felt afraid of being left alone again. Perhaps he had been used to it before, but now it seemed as if nobody truly cared about his existence. He wondered, would Anton leave him, too?

Anton noticed the pain in Liam’s gaze. His hands trembled, quiet and anxious. “Do you need anything else, young sir?” Anton asked, smiling warmly. That simple kindness made Liam’s heart ache. In his thoughts, he had never once cared about this driver, whom he often ignored when Anton tried to reach out. 

“D-do y-you p-pity m-me?” Finally, Liam asked, his voice sounded fragile.