"Ah… what a drag… I hate this…"
A pair of half-sleepy eyes stared at the brown oak door that had just shut with a soft click. The air still carried her presence—a plush scent of citrus that wrapped around him like silk. Sweet and intoxicating, yet sharp enough to cut through his drowsiness.
The owner of those lazy eyes slowly rose from his king-sized bed, white sheets twisted around his limbs like chains. His room stretched wide enough to swallow most people's entire homes whole.
At the center sat his delicately carved bed, white wood flowing like frozen water caught mid-stream. Every piece of furniture whispered of divine taste—even the floor beneath his feet seemed to pulse with artistic rhythm. The ceiling above curved in interwoven waves, like white sand sculpted by invisible winds.
To his right, a coffee table and chair waited in perfect arrangement. Behind them stretched a wall of books—stories and knowledge gathered from distant countries, their spines displaying languages he could read like old friends.
He dragged his feet as if his body weighed more than mountains. It didn't—he was a lithe young man who looked like he'd forgotten to eat for weeks. He was simply too lazy to walk like normal people did.
If he had his way, he'd never leave this sanctuary. The maids brought meals when hunger called. Books waited when boredom struck. Sleep embraced him when exhaustion won. Why venture beyond these walls when everything he needed lived within arm's reach?
And yet, here he was, moving against every instinct that screamed for stillness.
'Ah… dear lord.'
He opened the door and stepped into a passageway lined with glittering lights. Ancient white wood formed the walls—timber that had aged for decades before craftsmen deemed it worthy of use.
Along the bright hallway, young ladies in black and white gowns passed like ghosts. They bowed their heads in practiced courtesy, then quickly covered their noses with delicate hands. They tried to hide their disgust, but their movements spoke louder than words.
Whether he noticed or not, he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't remember his last bath, so their reaction made perfect sense.
There was just one thing he was worried about…
He stopped before a particular door after what felt like an eternity of walking. His hand hesitated on the handle for just a moment. Then he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
The room he entered was much smaller than his own, but no less impressive. The interior bloomed in completely different colors—like stepping between worlds.
Brown walls embraced the space. In the center, round couches circled a black wooden table like old friends sharing secrets. Beyond this seating area stretched a large black table that gleamed like polished obsidian. Behind it sat a man with rectangular glasses perched on his nose.
The man's face bore the marks of time, but his handsomeness cut through the weathering without effort. Grey eyes moved like liquid mercury as they studied papers scattered across his desk, each movement precise and enchanting.
Even with a new visitor standing before him, he continued his work. Finally, he raised his head with deliberate slowness.
His gaze lingered for a moment before he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair.
"Tell me, old fool. What do you want to do with your life?"
The person being addressed—old fool—scratched the back of his grey, ruffled hair and responded with a voice like gravel.
"Uhm… sleep? I've not really hit my milestone for sleep but I do have plans to feed stray cats too sometimes later."
The older man stared at him with blank eyes, then sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Seven university degrees. Four master's. Two doctorates. All before you turned twenty-six. You're an anomaly, Lucien. Even your mother and I were baffled. But at the end of the day, you are only twenty-six. All these achievements at such a young age have set the stage for greatness. What you need to do now is walk that path with confidence, not lock yourself in your room and sleep all day."
The boy winced with slight irritation, then shook his head.
"No, father, you are wrong. I did all those things because you wanted me to. I could have chosen to play games, sleep, do everything people my age were doing back then. But I decided against it. Why sacrifice a few moments of play and sleep and lazing around when I can have over sixty years of it, free from your orders and expectations—as long as I achieve everything I need to achieve as fast as possible? I sacrificed a lot to reach this point. It makes no sense for you to challenge me now."
The man looked at his son with worry creeping across his features, then exhaled slowly.
"Listen, Lucien. I am not challenging you—I respect the decisions you have made for yourself. But what I do not respect, and will challenge, is the manner in which you live your life. You are an adult. You will be held responsible for your actions and inactions. I did not push you all the way just to have you sleep and feed cats. And to get that into your head, I will have to force my hand a little."
Lucien winced again. He could feel the trap closing around him.
"Father…"
His small, hesitant whisper drifted past his father's ears like meaningless wind as the man continued.
"You cannot leave the responsibility of the entire company to just your brother and sister. Since you have proven yourself to be an irresponsible fellow, I will have to send you out of my house. You can laze around and feed cats however you want, but it won't be under my roof."
"Dad… that's mean… at least pity the cat."
"Indeed it is, son. I'm sure you can do anything you put your mind to. You might have come this far with your big brain, but you also need to realize that behind that big brain of yours was my mountain of money paving the way for everything. If you will undermine that, then I have to teach you with complete severity."
Lucien's face darkened like storm clouds as he stared at his father.
"Does mother even know about this? Laziel too? And Liora?"
The old man waved his hand dismissively.
"It is not your business, nor is it theirs. I deal with my son however I see fit. Now, get your things and get out of my house. Also, I blocked all three of your black cards. Come back when you are ready to serve your father's company."
A dark and slightly twisted grin crept across Lucien's face.
"Dad… This is not funny."
The man stared evenly, meeting Lucien's grey eyes with his own steel gaze.
"Look at me, old fool. Do I look like I'm joking?"
He studied Lucien with piercing eyes for several heartbeats, then settled back into his chair. His index finger drummed a steady rhythm against the polished table.
"However, there is a way out of all this…"
Lucien's brow creased as he watched the man carefully.
"The Balerons have been running a gaming company for some time now. Word is they're choosing their flagship title. Three years running, it's kept them in the top one percent of profitable companies worldwide."
The man's fingers stilled.
"I remember you had a small passion for games as a child. If you can break into their closed beta and reverse-engineer their monetization loop within a month, I'll know you still have the fire and won't bother you anymore."
Lucien's frown deepened like storm clouds gathering.
"Since I was a child, I've done nothing but obey you. Do you really think I've sacrificed everything I have just to reach this point and take orders from you again? To let you pull the strings of my life?"
The man's voice grew thick, climbing a dangerous octave.
"If you want to live your life the way you choose, then forget it all and get out from under my roof, boy!"
Lucien lifted his head, confidence radiating from every line of his body.
"Yeah. I'd rather leave your roof than be your hunting dog. Get your eldest son to do that for you instead. Or let me guess—you probably already have ten people doing it, but they're so useless you had to call on your genius son."
The man's face turned to stone.
"Father, I've lived a life of excellence and given you the pride of having a genius son. Among your peers, you can boast about me without end. Isn't that why you put me through such a rigorous education? Well, I'm finished now. And if you're not satisfied with that, I'm sorry—there's nothing more I can do for you. I'd rather starve in a gutter than take one more order from you."
Lucien walked out and slammed the door.