"I hate those who can't stand up for themselves."
Childhood. Sylas struck Tyrion so hard that the boy collapsed onto the ground.
"Ahhh…"
"Sylas, what's wrong with you? At it again? Did God bless you with that body just so you could hurt the weak?"
"And you, Aimer… do you also think Tyrion is weak?"
"W-what…?"
Sylas glared at them with fiery arrogance.
"What a pity. If God plays favorites, then there's no justice in this world."
"W-wait! Sylas, where are you going?"
"Don't stop him, Aimer."
"Tyrion, you too?!"
Tyrion had always been frail. Since childhood, he was often bullied, beaten for no reason other than his inability to fight back.
"What's this bookworm even good for? Gonna shield himself with his textbooks when he's getting hit?"
"Don't talk like that, young man!" their mother scolded.
"You disappoint me, Sylas," said their father.
Their parents always defended the other children from Sylas. Though the three were triplets, they shared almost no bond.
