Chapter 2

"Teresa, your parents are begging you—please give the house to your brother!"

"Your brother may be a disappointment, but he's the only son the Simmons family has."

"You're his sister. You don't want him to end up a bachelor, do you?"

"Just agree to move out for now, and once he's brought his wife home, gotten the marriage license, and it's a done deal, you can move back in. All right?"

"Your parents aren't playing favorites with your brother. When there are two kids in a family, the one who's doing better always has to help out the one who's struggling."

"Your brother's a good-for-nothing. Once your dad and I have finished settling his big life event, our job will be done, and after that we'll devote ourselves entirely to taking care of you."

My mother's cloudy eyes shone with a pleading light, and my father's honest face was full of apology.

The refusal caught in my throat and made a turn,

and came out as "Okay."

Compared to a parent's love, what's one house?

This was the love I'd waited twenty years for.

Soon, my house became Dean Simmons's wedding home,

and my parents and I were swept out the door.

Now that I finally had my parents' love, I threw myself into work even harder.

I secretly vowed to work like crazy and hurry up and buy another house so my parents could retire comfortably.

The rental was in bad shape, so I had to go to MC Corporation, the company I was signed with, to do my streams.

By the time I got back to the rental with dark circles that rivaled a panda's,

I found my mom sitting on the couch, crying.

Only when I asked did I find out.

Even though I'd agreed to transfer the house to Dean Simmons, he couldn't come up with the monthly loan payments,

so he'd gone to my mom.

"Teresa, the money your dad and I have is in a fixed-term deposit. It's a waste to pull it out now. Why don't you cover the payment for your brother first?" My mom looked at me again with those pleading, earnest eyes.

"Mom, I stay up night after night streaming, doing PK battles with people, and when I lose I have to crawl into a trash can. Every dollar I make is hard-earned. Have you ever once felt sorry for me?"

Right then, my heart ached like a lemon that had been beaten with a stick.

"How could Mom not feel for you? I've got it all figured out—when my fixed-term deposit matures, I'll take it all out and give it to you. That spendthrift brother of yours won't get a single cent. He and your sister-in-law-to-be haven't even registered their marriage yet, right?"

"You and I will work together to help him settle everything, and once they've got their marriage license, his wife will naturally put up the money to pay off the mortgage."

I just lowered my eyes, aching, and said nothing.

When my mother saw that I didn't answer, she coughed to cover her awkwardness,

and went on in a mild, unhurried tone:

"If you don't want to pay, that's fine too. I hear there are blood buyers outside the hospital. Your dad and I will go stake out the hospital entrance. One way or another, we'll patch up your brother's hole for this month."

"Don't you worry, Teresa. In the future, whenever you need it, your parents will just as gladly go sell blood to patch up your holes too."

With that, my mom called my dad and made to head off to the hospital.