Chapter 1: Welcome to the city, Asshole
Kenji stared out the bus window, the unfamiliar scenery blurring past him. Leaning forward, he pressed his cold palms against his face and rubbed his eyes, releasing a slow, irritated sigh.
“Urgh…” he muttered, slumping back against his seat.
The elderly woman beside him noticed and gently tapped his shoulder. “Are you alright, young man?” she asked kindly.
“Hm? Ah… yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” Kenji replied with a polite smile before quickly looking away. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
Just a week ago, Kenji had been living under the strict care of his grandmother. She had raised him alone, pushing him relentlessly to excel in his studies. Failure was never tolerated—only met with harsh words or, sometimes, harsher punishment. Still, Kenji endured. He believed that if he worked hard enough, he could one day give her a better life.
He dreamed of buying her a bigger house. Of hiring someone to take care of her. Of finally repaying everything she had done for him.
But that dream ended without warning.
His grandmother collapsed from a heart attack and never woke up.
Kenji had stood there in silence, unable to process what had happened. Neighbors helped arrange her funeral, offering sympathy and comfort—but Kenji couldn’t even cry. All he felt was emptiness… and confusion.
He had always imagined a future where he would care for her.
Now, that future was gone.
Worse, a part of him felt resentment.
He had begged her to take care of her health, to stop eating unhealthy food especially pork—but she never listened. Every time he tried to intervene, she would lash out at him, stubborn and unyielding.
Now she was gone.
And he was left behind.
The house felt unbearably quiet.
The next day, a man appeared at his door—claiming to be his father.
Kenji had always believed his father was dead. When he was younger, he had once asked about him.
“Your father is rotting in hell!. If you don’t want to end up like him, listen to me,” his grandmother had said, her voice filled with bitterness.
Those words had stayed with him for years. So when the man stood before him, alive and real, Kenji didn’t know what to feel.
The house was filled with memories—some painful, some precious. Leaving it behind wasn’t easy.
But when the man spoke of wealth… of opportunity… of giving him the best education…
Without blinking an eye—
Kenji agreed.
If there was a chance at an easier path to success, why shouldn’t he take it?
Still, he refused the offer of a car. He chose to travel on his own, needing time to think. The man agreed and handed him his contact details before leaving.
Kenji packed what little he had, his thoughts a storm of uncertainty. Fear lingered—but so did determination.
He had faced hardship all his life. This was nothing new.
Stepping out of his modest home, he felt both excitement and unease. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear—
He would carve his own path.
At sixteen, Kenji stood tall at 5’9”, his lean but defined frame shaped by years of hard work. Despite his age, there was a quiet strength in him—one that drew attention.
Especially from girls.
But Kenji had never cared.
Confessions came and went, but he dismissed them all—sometimes coldly, sometimes cruelly. Once, he even mocked a girl for her poor academic performance after she confessed to him, leaving her humiliated. When her friends tried to confront him, he ended it with a single punch.
No one bothered him after that.
Still, the confessions never truly stopped.
Some girls even seemed to enjoy provoking him, as if his harsh rejection was part of the appeal.
Kenji found it ridiculous. And strangely annoying.
---
The bus finally came to a stop.
Kenji slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped off, his chest tightening as he took in the bustling city around him.
“Welcome to the city, asshole,” he muttered under his breath.
The noise, the people, the unfamiliar surroundings—it was overwhelming.
“Now what?” he murmured, scanning the area.
He reached for his phone to call the number his father had given him—Only to realize it was dead.
“…Great.”
Clicking his tongue, he looked around for a place to charge it. With no other choice, he pushed forward, determined to figure things out on his own.
---
As he walked, a small boy caught his attention—crying, tears streaming down his face.
Kenji frowned. Something felt off. Before he could react, the boy ran toward him and clung to his leg.
“Help me!” the boy sobbed.
“Hey—get off,” Kenji snapped, trying to shake him off. But the kid held on tightly.
Kenji sighed in annoyance.
“…Fine. I’ll help you,” he said reluctantly.
The boy’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Just let go first.”
“Okay.”
The moment the boy released him, Kenji turned—and ran.
“Waaah! He’s my brother! He’s abandoning me! Help!” the boy suddenly wailed, pointing at him.
Kenji nearly tripped.
“What the—?!”
Before he could escape, a tall man grabbed him by the neck.
“Are you seriously leaving your little brother behind?” the man shouted angrily.
Kenji froze. “Me!? I’m not—”
“Huh? Now you’re denying it?” the man interrupted, his grip tightening.
The crowd quickly turned against Kenji, their accusing stares and murmurs making it clear—they believed the boy.
Kenji sighed internally. Explaining wouldn’t work.
Forcing a smile, he turned to the boy. “You’ve got it all wrong, sir. I was just teasing him. Right, Brownie?” he said casually.
The boy flinched.
The man frowned. “Is that true?”
“Of course,” Kenji replied smoothly. “Why would I abandon him?”
The tension eased.
The man sighed. “Then be more careful. You scared him.”
“No problem,” Kenji said. “Apologize, Brownie.”
“My name’s not Brownie!” the boy snapped.
Kenji’s smile sharpened slightly. The boy stiffened—then reluctantly apologized.
Soon, the crowd dispersed. Silence fell between them. Kenji’s expression darkened.
“You little piece of shit,” he muttered.
“Lying bastard,” the boy shot back.
Kenji stared at him, irritation rising. “What do you want?”
The boy met his gaze, no longer pretending. “Help,” he said quietly. “I need your help.”
Kenji exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
The city, the noise, the situation—it was already too much.
“…Fine,” he said at last. “But this better be worth it.”
