The Fake king

*Bill POV*

"Hey, Bill. Can I count on you to do this for me...? You can, right?" He said with a laugh that made me feel like throwing up just from the sight of it. 

It was still morning, yet I had already lost hope in this damned day... 

"If Mom finds out, she'll be furious, just like last time..."

The moment I gave him that warning, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face, his eyes brimming with contempt and anger... 

"Just do it and don't say a word to her..."

I lifted my gaze, locking eyes with him—his narrow black eyes staring at me coldly... 

"Tell me, brother, do you enjoy this? Destroying my life? Making every day worse...?" I asked, taking a step back. 

His eyes trembled, his lips moved without uttering a single word, as if he was searching for something to say... 

But at that moment, I swear I saw something—something unnatural. 

It was as if a massive black hand had bound my brother with countless threads, like a puppet being controlled by some unseen force... 

Shocked and terrified, I rubbed my eyes and pinched my cheek. But when I looked back at him, there was nothing. 

He stepped closer, placing his palm on my shoulder with slight pressure. 

"Just do as I told you..."

"Fine, as you wish, brother..."

With those words, he left the house with a strange expression I couldn't understand, while I was left thinking about what I had just seen... 

"By the creator of hell... What the hell was that thing?"

After some thought, I came to only one conclusion—maybe I had lost my mind. Or maybe I had finally gone insane. So, I decided to just ignore it... 

The argument with my brother had been about his chores—the ones our mother had assigned to him—but he always made me do them instead. 

The last time Mom found out, she was furious. My older brother got a light scolding, while I received a beating to make sure I wouldn't do his tasks again... 

And yet, here we were, repeating the same cycle... 

Four years had passed, and I had just turned ten, but I felt no joy in it... 

My eyes were devoid of any light, resembling those of a dead fish. My outward appearance? Like that of someone far older, drowning in misery... 

And the reason? Every single day was hell. My brother, three years older than me, loved tormenting me, making my life worse. Maybe I could even call it his favorite hobby... 

Every day was the same. Over time, I learned how to avoid my mother's wrath—by simply doing nothing... 

Even though I was a genius, capable of easily achieving the highest grades in my class or winning any school competition... 

I distanced myself from it all. I made sure my grades never exceeded the average, and sometimes, I even failed on purpose. 

Things that seemed impossible to my classmates felt like child's play to me if I were given the chance... 

"Bill, can I speak with you after class...?"

After the school day ended, I was just about to leave when I heard my teacher's voice. He sounded worried about something. 

"Sure, as you wish, sir..." I replied in an emotionless tone. 

Once everyone had left, I followed him to the teachers' office. 

He gestured for me to sit down and placed a sheet of questions in front of me. 

"What is this, sir? Do you need something...?" I asked, confused, while he smiled in a calm and reassuring manner. 

The teacher lifted his head, his brown eyes meeting my lifeless black ones. 

"Answer these questions, or else I won't let you go home today."

I had no idea what he was aiming for, but not going home would cause me serious trouble. 

"Fine, I'll try..." I said, trying not to waste any time. 

I picked up the paper and read through the questions. Out of ten, I knew all the answers and could solve them effortlessly, but that wasn't exactly a good thing... 

Ten minutes later, I had answered five—three correctly, two partially, and I left the remaining five blank. 

"Alright, I've answered them, so I'll be leaving now. I have things to do... Excuse me."

I grabbed my bag, but he held onto my wrist. 

"Did you know these questions are meant for ninth graders? That's three years ahead of you, yet you still managed to answer them..."

I knew he was going to say that. I had realized it the moment I picked up the paper. 

"Check my answers first. And please, let go of my hand—you'll get me in trouble if I'm late."

For some reason, when I mentioned "trouble," my teacher hesitated and released my wrist. Maybe he had noticed the scar above my right eye... 

"Are you interested in participating in this year's competition? I'm sure you'd win."

His words, spoken by someone who knew nothing about me, made me pause for a moment. 

It wasn't that I didn't *want* to participate. It was that I wasn't *allowed* to... 

"Sorry, but I'm not interested. See you later."

The teacher, who had been hoping I would join, took a step back, disappointment evident on his face. 

"Why are you hiding your talents like this? Don't you have a goal you want to achieve?"

Stop talking about me as if I have a choice in this, damn it... 

"No. I don't."

I left the school, leaving my teacher behind with that strange expression on his face. 

After some time, I arrived at the house—the place I never wanted to return to. 

I had always wished for something—*anything*—to happen that would keep me from coming back to this cursed house. 

"I'm home."

My words echoed into nothingness, as there was no one in the house. 

*The king... The new king...* 

A strange wind blew near the door, carrying with it an eerie whisper, as if I was hearing words... 

"Looks like I'm hallucinating again..."

I walked into my room, tossed my bag aside, took off my school shirt, and ran my fingers over the scars that covered my entire body. 

I was filled with countless scars—far too many. 

Most of them were from my mother's whip. The large scar above my right eye was from when she pressed a burning knife against it. And there were many, many more... 

But I no longer cared. Maybe because my body had gotten used to the pain. 

She hadn't beaten me or even approached me lately, and I had stopped doing anything that might anger her... 

Dealing with my brother was the real problem, but I could endure it. 

The thing was, I had always been better than my older brother at *everything*. No matter what he did, I could do it better. That useless failure couldn't get anything right, and for the past three years, he had been forcing me to do his chores most of the time. 

When my mother found out, she was furious. 

But her anger wasn't directed at *him*. 

She was furious at *me*. She beat me and kept beating me until I lost consciousness. 

All because she thought I was going to surpass her beloved son. 

Even though I already had. 

But I realized something—something was off. 

Even if she hated me, there was no reason for her to torture me *this* much just because I was better than my brother. I was still her son too, wasn't I...? 

"Alright... The holidays are coming up. I'll search again then."

For the past two years, I had been searching through the house, hoping to find something—anything—that would explain why my mother treated me this way. 

Why she hated me so much. 

But I had to be extremely careful. I only searched during vacations. If she ever found out, things would get even worse... 

Even so, I had found nothing. 

I had searched every corner of the house multiple times over the past two years, but I never found a single clue. 

The only place I hadn't been able to enter was my mother's room, as it was always securely locked. 

But this time... 

This time, I had learned how to open that kind of lock. 

This time, I *would* succeed. 

Finally, the school holidays arrived—the ones I had been waiting for.

They had all gone on a trip. I didn't even know where, but they would be gone for a whole week. 

During that time, I pretended to be sick. 

For some reason, she had insisted that I come along with them. 

That wasn't part of my plan. 

"Hey, Bill. Look at you—you're really sick. It seems like you won't be able to come with us..."

His words sounded sorrowful, enough to make anyone think he was considerate and caring. But the smile he wore as he spoke made me want to smash his teeth in with an iron fist.

"Sorry to worry you, big brother, but I really can't go this time... *Cough, cough*." I made my voice as weak and shaky as possible, letting it break here and there.

"Alright, I'll let Mom and Dad know. You'd better be better by the time we return..."

That was more of a threat than encouragement.

"Yeah, I will. So enjoy your trip."

*Screw you, you bastard, and your fake concern. If it were up to me, I'd turn your face into mush...*

"Mom, Bill is sick, so he won't be coming with us."

"Alright. Just come down, then. Leave him there."

She didn't even bother to come and check on me. Not even a glance.

Well... it wasn't the first time something like this happened.

An hour after they left, my chance had finally come.

The first thing I did was search the entire house again—every room that was open, every corner I could access.

But just like before, I found nothing. Not a single clue that could explain why she treated me this way.

"That only leaves... her room."

I stood before her door, my legs trembling.

The one place I was absolutely forbidden to enter in this house.

But if I wanted the truth, I had to go in.

I grabbed the doorknob.

Was it luck or misfortune? The door was unlocked.

Months of training to pick that lock, and now I didn't even need it.

But that didn't matter.

The first thing I did was memorize the exact placement of everything in the room—any change could give away that I had been here.

For an entire hour, I searched every inch of the room.

Under the bed.

Through her desk drawers.

Inside her wardrobe.

Every. Single. Spot.

Nothing.

Not a single shred of evidence that explained her damn hatred toward me.

Just as I was about to leave, my eyes landed on a small box atop her wardrobe.

"Damn these short legs..."

I was too small to reach that high.

Leaving the room, I went downstairs to fetch a chair. Five minutes later, I had it in place.

After a few attempts, I finally managed to grab the box.

"Did she... want me to find this?"

She could have locked it. She could have hidden it better. Yet she left it here, completely unguarded.

I opened it.

The moment my eyes fell on its contents, my heart threatened to burst from my chest.

I couldn't control myself.

Even breathing became difficult, as if the air itself refused to enter my lungs.

Tears streamed down my face—tears I hadn't shed in two years, ever since I lost my emotions and could no longer express anything.

But these pictures...

These documents...

They shattered me even more than I already was.

"So this was the truth from the very beginning... It's not that you didn't love me. It's that you *couldn't*."

I dropped the first paper to the ground and reached for the others, my eyes still clouded with tears.

And then, I picked up the last document.

The moment I read what was written on it—

The light in my eyes disappeared.

The warmth in my heart vanished.

Forever.

******

Meanwhile, in a beautifully decorated five-star hotel, known for its exquisite service, three people entered one of the suites.

A man.

A woman.

And a twelve-year-old boy.

Bill's family.

The moment they stepped inside, the man's expression shifted completely.

He gestured for his son to leave and do something elsewhere, then sat down across from his wife.

"Chloe... I think it's time we tell Bill the truth."