How fortunate.
Yujin smiled as he recalled recent events. He couldn’t believe such good fortune kept coming his way. Since publishing his book, it seemed only good things happened.
The smile unconsciously appeared at his lips, but he quickly composed himself and looked at the monitor. The new writing was progressing smoothly. Just by showing the first part, the publisher’s president had visibly grown excited and insisted on signing a contract immediately. Caught off guard, Yujin ended up signing for a second book as well, which brought him a pleasant pressure. Moreover, the response to the first book grew better day by day. It was both surprising and joyful — yet also a little frightening.
I hope nothing sudden happens.
A chilling feeling made Yujin glance back without realizing it. The house was absurdly silent. A shiver ran down his spine, and he hurriedly stood up and went outside.
“Angie, Angie!”
Calling his daughter’s name, he opened the door and stepped out, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw her small figure standing not far away.
“Angie, what are you doing? It’s cold, so let’s go inside.”
He lightly grabbed his daughter’s arm to bring her inside, but for some reason, Angela resisted firmly and pointed to one side.
“Daddy, there.”
Yujin looked up in puzzlement and froze. A dark gray sedan was approaching them. Suddenly, his heart pounded fiercely and dizziness swept over him as if all the blood drained from his body.
No way, how—
Winston’s face flashed before his eyes, and without time to think further, Yujin scooped Angela into his arms. He tried to rush back inside, but it was already too late. The car had come to a stop right beside them in an instant. His mind went completely blank. Frozen holding his child, the engine cut off, and the driver’s door opened. A tall, familiar man entered Yujin’s wide-open eyes.
...Ah.
He opened his mouth, unable to utter a sound, as the man greeted him with a bright smile.
“Yujin, hello. How have you been?”
“Mr. Grant.”
Confirming it was the publishing president, Yujin finally exhaled a sigh of relief close to a breath. His tense shoulders relaxed, and soon a bright smile appeared.
The mansion named Delight was, however, oppressively gloomy now. Mrs. Campbell flinched at the mansion’s deathly still atmosphere. In the hall, the outdated Christmas tree still stood, adding to the eerie mood.
“Kane, what is this? Can’t you clean this up immediately?”
She snapped irritably, and the butler replied with a troubled look.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s by Mr. Campbell’s orders...”
“Winston?”
Mrs. Campbell asked in disbelief, and the butler nodded. She let out a short sigh of disbelief, then looked around nervously and asked sharply,
“All of this? Did he really say to leave this disgraceful mess as is?”
Despite her cold and displeased voice, the butler had to say yes again. Mrs. Campbell sighed loudly, but Winston was now the master of the mansion. All she could do was nag her son. Well aware of her own situation, Mrs. Campbell stormed up the stairs in anger. Her destination was obvious without asking. Without slowing her pace, she reached the room at the far end of the corridor and knocked quickly. Waiting for a response, only heavy silence greeted her. Without waiting long, she pushed the double doors open.
“Winston...”
Calling her beloved youngest son’s name, she opened her mouth wide but then gasped, covering her nose and mouth with her hand. The overpowering smell of alcohol was dizzying, something she had never encountered before.
Barely keeping her balance and avoiding falling, she opened her eyes wide and inspected the room. Her precious son was there—slouched disgracefully on the sofa beyond empty liquor bottles scattered on the floor.
Mrs. Campbell’s mind went blank from the shock. She never imagined Winston like this. Her other children were all reckless—addicted to gambling, drugs, or blinded by men, none of them sane. Only Winston was smart, behaved properly, dignified, and perfect-looking. He was a blessing from God to Mrs. Campbell.
But now her one and only perfect son was ruined like this.
“Winston.”
She regained her composure and called her son’s name again. The stench of alcohol was sickening, but with tremendous patience, she endured it and moved toward her son. Extreme alphas don’t get drunk or addicted to drugs, but who knows what or how much Winston had done—he was completely passed out and unconscious.
“My goodness...”
Seeing her son’s state up close, Mrs. Campbell uttered a mix of pity and horror. The always neat and tidy Winston was nowhere to be seen. His carefully combed hair was messy and unkempt; his chin was covered with an untidy beard. His crumpled shirt had stains of spilled alcohol and several buttons undone. The heavy smell ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ of alcohol from his entire body was headache-inducing. He looked like a homeless man.
Staring blankly for a moment, Mrs. Campbell suddenly grabbed Winston’s shoulder roughly and shook him.
“Get up, get up!”
She yelled hoarsely and shook him violently, but Winston barely opened his eyes. The sight made her even angrier, and she nearly slapped him.
But her raised hand stopped in place. He was her beloved and revered son above all else. Though she had mercilessly slapped her other children—including Harold’s young mistress—she had never so much as touched Winston. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to hit her beloved youngest son. Eventually, she lowered her hand and hastily looked around. Seeing a half-full glass of liquor within view, she didn’t hesitate to grab it and poured the lukewarm drink mercilessly over Winston’s face.
“...Ugh.”
Winston grimaced, twitching his large body. Mrs. Campbell set the empty glass on the table and waited for her son to wake.
“What the—?”
Mumbling with unclear speech, Winston slowly opened his eyes. His unfocused, blurry vision briefly flickered with a familiar apparition.
“Yujin...”
Suddenly shouting unconsciously, he bolted upright but soon realized reality. The person glaring fiercely at him was none other than Mrs. Campbell.
“Mother.”
His voice, lower than usual, clearly showed how disappointed he was. That only angered Mrs. Campbell more.
“Well, well, Winston Campbell, this is quite a sight.”
She folded her arms, looked down at her son, and spat out through clenched teeth,
“What the hell are you doing? How much have you drunk to end up like this?”
Despite her reprimands, Winston showed no reaction. Instead, showing no interest, he picked up the half-empty bottle on the table.
“Stop drinking!”
Mrs. Campbell shouted sharply and snatched the bottle away. Winston’s face grew harsh immediately, and mingled with the alcohol smell was a sweet pheromone scent. But Mrs. Campbell only grew more exasperated.
“Are you angry at me now? You?”
“Give it here, Mother.”
Winston waved his hand dismissively, annoyed. But Mrs. Campbell refused to budge and kept scolding him.
“Pull yourself together and get up! You are the head of the Campbell family! I won’t tolerate this!”
She was confident until then. Her good son would listen to his mother as always. And he would return as the perfect head of the Campbell family.
...Or so she thought.
Frowning, Winston suddenly stood up. Seeing her huge son suddenly facing her, Mrs. Campbell was startled and took a step back.
