Chapter 3

Ryland hid by the doorway. When he saw Dad scolding me, he secretly smiled, then tugged slightly at Dad's sleeve. "Dad, don't be mad anymore. Cal didn't do it on purpose. I don't even blame him."

Dad's expression softened instantly. He ruffled Ryland's hair and said gently, "You're the sweetest and most thoughtful, aren't you? Come on. I'll make your favorite dessert!"

Then, he took Ryland's hand and walked away without sparing me another glance.

I stayed where I was for a while before robotically turning around and closing the door. Quietly, I stood in the corner of the room, awaiting Dad's next command.

At noon, Dad's phone rang. His voice became unusually gentle when he answered it. "Hey, honey. How's your business trip going?"

Mom's warm voice came from the other end of the call. "Pretty well. Just that I miss you guys a little. Oh, right. How's Callum been adjusting since coming home?"

Dad glanced at me, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "He's been very well-behaved—extremely obedient, too. He no longer throws tantrums and even studies alongside Ryland. What a sensible kid."

As he spoke, he pulled his phone away and snapped a picture of Ryland and me sitting together doing homework. Then, he sent it over. "Look at them. They're getting along so well, doing homework together and all."

When Ryland heard Mom's voice, he instantly dropped his pencil and ran over to Dad, calling out sweetly, "Mom, I miss you so much! When are you coming back?"

Mom's sweet chuckle rang out. "I miss you, too, darling. I'll be back in another week. I'll bring presents for both you and Callum."

Meanwhile, Dad held the phone out to me—now in video-call mode—and quietly issued another command. "Say 'hi' to your mom."

"Hi, Mom," I repeated mechanically, my voice completely flat.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Mom's confused voice came. "What's wrong, Callum? You look unwell and… pale. Are you sick?"

Dad quickly took the phone back and made up a lie. "He just forgot to sleep with his blanket on last night and caught a little cold. I already gave him medicine. He'll be fine in a couple of days, so don't worry."

"That's good. Take proper care of the boys and don't let them get sick, okay?" Mom reminded him gently.

"Alright, I got it. Don't you worry about anything. Just focus on work and rest when you need to."

After the call ended, the warmth disappeared from Dad's visage. He glanced at me coldly. "Next time your mother calls, look a little more alive. Don't give me that miserable look."

"I understand."

Since Mom's phone call that day, Ryland's hostility toward me deepened. Every day, he found new ways to make things difficult for me.

He would tear up my textbooks and throw them onto the floor. He would toss my stationery into the trash can and even stomp on it a few times.

When Dad saw it, he merely said, "Ryland is still young. He doesn't know any better. As his older brother, all you need to do is clean up your own stuff."

So, I followed his instructions.

I crouched on the floor, picked up the torn textbooks, then retrieved my stationery from the trash and cleaned everything carefully. The edges of the torn paper were sharp enough to cut my fingers.

Blood dripped onto the floor, but I showed no reaction at all. I simply continued organizing like a robot until I had put every item back in place. Only then did I quietly return to my desk.

Day after day passed like this. I remained the same obedient puppet that only knew how to follow commands. As long as Dad didn't issue an instruction, I would stay frozen in the same position for hours without moving.

Even my breathing became so faint it almost felt as though I no longer existed.

One night, Sebastian got up to use the bathroom and saw me standing in my room. I was neither moving nor sleeping. The next morning, he went to speak with Dad.

"Callum doesn't seem right lately. He barely talks, barely moves, and he doesn't even sleep at night. He just stands there staring blankly for hours," he said. "Could something have gone wrong with the mods?"

Dad was shaving when he heard that. His expression remained indifferent.

"That's exactly how he's supposed to act after the mods—quiet, obedient, and trouble-free. Now, stop worrying about things you shouldn't. Just do your job, and don't give him any special treatment."