He says I'm a pathological liar. Just like my mother, always faking illness and playing the victim to beg for sympathy. On my eighteenth birthday, I called him, my voice trembling with desperation: "Please, just show up this once. If you don't, I will die." His voice on the other end was icy and indifferent: "So you've learned to threaten me now? Then go ahead and die." The line went dead. I smiled, my heart entirely hollowed out. The mechanical chime of the System echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host termination sequence initiating—] I died on the day of my eighteenth birthday. And yet, that very billionaire CEO—the man who despised his eldest son more than anyone else in the world—went completely insane. 01. I was a Tasker. I transmigrated into this world when the boy, Ethan Brooks, was only six years old. The System told me that my only mission was simple: get my father to spend just one birthday with me, and the task would be complete. At first, I thought nothing could be easier. In the mirror, my six-year-old self had a chubby, adorable face with bright, innocent eyes. Whenever neighbors or sweet old ladies passed by on the street, they couldn't help but stop to hug me. "What a precious little boy. His parents must absolutely treasure him." But I soon discovered the brutal truth. The person who hated me most in this entire world was my own father. 02. Marcus Brooks was forced to marry my mother. Back then, he was the golden heir to the Brooks Conglomerate, deeply in love with his college sweetheart—a struggling, low-tier Hollywood actress. My grandfather was furious. He despised the entertainment industry and forced Marcus to break off the relationship, ordering him home to accept an arranged marriage. The match chosen for him was my mother, Clara. Marcus originally intended to just go through the motions to appease my grandfather. But Clara loved him. She loved him desperately, to the point of madness. She had carried a secret crush on Marcus for years. She pursued him relentlessly, crying for him, going on hunger strikes, and even resorting to self-harm. Marcus felt suffocated by the sheer weight of her obsession. Eventually, Clara became pregnant. Under the crushing pressure from both my grandfather and the public eye, Marcus finally married her. They spent six incredibly cold months in matrimony. Six months later, Clara passed away while giving birth to me. Whether it was during the grueling hours of her fatal labor or the somber days of her funeral, Marcus never once showed up. Three months after she passed, he finally returned to the estate. The nanny carried me out and placed me right in front of him. He cast a brief, sweeping glance over my face, leaving behind a single, freezing sentence. "He looks exactly like Clara." Then he turned and walked away without a shred of lingering warmth. 03. By the time I was six, I had already learned to be fiercely independent. During an art class at school, the teacher asked us to draw "My Family." In my drawing, there was only myself and Mrs. Gable, our nanny. The teacher bent down and asked, "Where is your daddy, Ethan?" "Daddy lives inside the television." "And where is your mommy?" "Mommy is up in heaven." The teacher went silent for a long time. She gently patted my head, then walked into the main office to call Marcus. "Mr. Brooks, next Tuesday is our Parent-Teacher Open Day. Would it be possible for you to come in and talk about Ethan?" I overheard her call from outside the door, and a tiny spark of anticipation flared up in my chest. Next Tuesday also happened to be my birthday. If Daddy came to school, it would count as him spending my birthday with me. When Tuesday arrived, I started waiting from noon. I waited through one class period after another. By the time the final bell rang and school dismissed, a sleek, black Maybach finally rolled through the school gates. My eyes widened with hopeful excitement. But the person who stepped out of the luxury vehicle was a sharp-looking man in a tailored suit—Marcus’s executive assistant. "Mr. Brooks asked me to hand this over to you, ma'am," the assistant said, sliding a high-end gift basket and a premium store gift card into the teacher’s hands. "He also mentioned that the boy is inherently difficult and ill-mannered. He apologizes for any trouble Ethan might cause you." The teacher let out a heavy, deep sigh. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true at all. I was incredibly well-behaved. I had a gentle disposition and worked harder than anyone else in class. But the Maybach had already pulled a swift U-turn and sped away, as if sparing even a single second for me was a massive waste of their time. For the first time, I realized a cruel truth about parental love. It is either the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring absolutely no effort at all. Or, it is the hardest thing in the world to obtain, no matter how hard you try. 04. But I didn't give up. At first, I thought that if Daddy realized I was a good kid, he would eventually grow to love me. So I pushed myself to the absolute limit in my studies. Every single semester, I made the Principal’s Honor Roll, and my academic certificates lined the walls of my bedroom. But it was completely useless. Whenever Mrs. Gable texted these achievements to Marcus, his inbox remained a graveyard of unread messages. Later on, some boys in my grade started bullying me. They cornered me on the playground, smirking maliciously. "You claim your dad is Marcus Brooks?" "What a pathetic liar. Look at yourself. You don’t look a single bit like the son of a billionaire CEO." "Exactly! No one ever shows up for you on Parent-Teacher night. I bet you’re just some stray orphan!" A fight broke out. We slammed hard into the glass display cases lining the hallway near the gymnasium. The glass shattered into shards. One of the boys, completely blinded by rage, grabbed a jagged piece of glass and slashed it savagely across my forearm. ... Lying in the hospital ward, I overheard the parents of those boys whispering in low, hurried voices outside. "I heard this kid is just an illegitimate nobody." "We can just throw a few thousand dollars at him to settle this out of court." "Why don’t we talk to the Board of Trustees and have him expelled? If he stays at this academy and starts spreading rumors, it’ll ruin our boy's chances at the Ivy Leagues..." I sat frozen on the hospital bed, my expression entirely numb. Protecting one's own child is a basic human instinct. I didn't blame those parents for wanting to sacrifice me to secure their children's futures. In fact, I felt a deep, aching envy toward those boys. Suddenly, the hushed whispers outside ceased entirely. In their place came a wave of pure panic: "M-Mr. Brooks?" Marcus had arrived at the very last moment. Behind him walked a team of cold, calculating lawyers, executive assistants, and a trembling, bowing school principal. "I understand completely, Mr. Brooks. This was a severe lapse in our security," the principal stammered, sweat dripping down his face. "I will handle this with the utmost severity. The students responsible will be expelled immediately!" Marcus gave a curt, indifferent nod. Leaving his assistants and legal team outside to handle the paperwork, he pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. My heart had never felt so warm. In that single moment, I genuinely believed the thick sheets of ice between Marcus and me were finally beginning to melt. "Daddy..." I choked out, my voice thick with tears. But in the next second, the words died instantly in my throat. Because I saw the look in Marcus’s eyes. They were completely, devastatingly cold. "Ethan Brooks, look at you. Quite the performer," he said softly. "Are you trying to play the exact same cards your mother used to play?" It wasn't until much later that the nanny told me the truth. Years ago, to win Marcus’s sympathy, Clara had hired thugs to harass her on the street, only to call him sobbing in terror. "How much did you pay those classmates of yours to get them to put on this little show for you?" Marcus’s dark, fathomless eyes bored into me, filled with merciless scrutiny. I felt the blood in my veins freeze solid in an instant. "I didn't do it." "Don't lie to me, Ethan." "I really didn't do it!!" I broke down crying, entirely unable to prove my innocence, crushed under the weight of my own helplessness. Marcus stared down at me with profound disappointment for a long moment, then lowered his voice. "I genuinely thought you would turn out different from her." "But it seems you are becoming more like her every single day." He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The principal hurried to keep up with his pace. Completely unaware of the conversation that had just occurred inside, he began pouring praise over me to impress Marcus. "I had no idea Ethan was your son, Mr. Brooks! No wonder he’s so remarkable. He takes right after you." "He tops the class in every single exam, and his essays are beautifully written. His prose actually shares a striking resemblance to the articles you published back in your Ivy League days..." Marcus’s footsteps paused slightly. But then, he let out a bitter, low chuckle. "What a waste." With that, his footsteps resumed, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished down the corridor. 05. The years bled into one another, and I grew older. Every single year, I tried every method imaginable to beg Marcus to spend my birthday with me. A few times, I came incredibly close to succeeding. But in the end, Marcus never showed up. He would instruct his assistant to deliver gifts to me—each one more lavish and expensive than the last—alongside a custom, thousand-dollar designer cake. Perhaps, in front of the public eye, he still needed to maintain the facade of a dutiful father. But he himself never stepped foot near me. He detested me. He believed I inherited Clara’s manipulative traits and was rotten to the core. When I studied hard and excelled, he thought I was putting on a calculated act. When I was hospitalized with a dangerously high fever, he assumed I was faking illness to beg for attention. No matter what I did, it was always wrong. Eventually, Mrs. Gable grew too old and retired, leaving me completely alone in the apartment. Whenever I grew exhausted from studying, I would turn on the television. On the screen, Marcus and his wife, Madeline, were taking their younger son, Leo, onto a popular celebrity family reality show. Madeline was his first love. After my grandfather passed away, Marcus had finally gotten exactly what he wanted and married her. He poured massive resources into backing her career, transforming the once low-tier actress into an A-list Hollywood star with millions of adoring fans. When the three of them appeared together on screen—the handsome, billionaire father, the stunningly beautiful mother, and the lively, charming son—it was picture-perfect. It really was beautiful. I felt genuinely happy for Leo. He had the most blissful family in the world. And Leo truly was happy. Even though Marcus managed a global conglomerate, he always carved out time to help Leo with his homework, build Lego sets with him, and shoot hoops in their private basketball court. The live stream comments rolled across the screen in endless waves: [Mr. Brooks is literally the best dad in the world.] [I’m so jealous, I wish I had a father like him.] I smiled faintly and switched off the TV. Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. This was my absolute last chance. If I failed to complete the mission, I would be permanently erased by the System. I picked up my phone and dialed Marcus’s number. I called repeatedly, but he never picked up. Left with no choice, I pressed down to record a voicemail. "Daddy, please, I’m begging you. A legal adulthood birthday only happens once in a lifetime." "Since I was a kid, you’ve never shown up for a single birthday. Just this once... just be here with me this once, okay?" "If you don't... I will really die..." A long time passed before a voice message notification popped up on my screen. My fingers trembled violently as I tapped to play it. Marcus’s voice came through, dripping with icy sarcasm and mockery. "So you've learned to threaten me now?" "Then go ahead and die." 06. The birthday candles burned down to the very wick. The tiny flames flickered one last time, then died out, plunging the room into darkness. I used a plastic fork to scoop a bit of the frosting from the cake and placed it in my mouth. It was sweet, light, and airy, like a cloud. But I could taste nothing but bitterness. [Host, time is almost up.] The clock was rapidly ticking toward midnight. On my social media feed, a new post from Marcus popped up. It was a picture of Leo smiling brightly under the sun at an exclusive golf country club. The caption was brief, but it couldn't hide the overwhelming adoration: “Out on the green with Leo today. The boy’s swing is improving incredibly fast. So proud of him.” I stared at it for a moment, then took a picture of my lonely birthday cake and posted a status update of my own. “No matter what, thank you for everything.” “Not every parent loves their child, but every child is born loving their parents.” “I will love you forever. And goodbye, Daddy.” The clock finally struck twelve midnight. Still wearing my paper birthday hat, I quietly stopped breathing. My soul drifted out of my physical form, floating gently into the air. Outside the window lay the sparkling lights of a sprawling city; inside, my body gradually grew cold in the lonely darkness. I asked the System, "Why haven't I left yet?" The deep, resonant mechanical voice replied, [Because right now, this is not the end.] As if confirming the System's words. Ten minutes later, a heavy pounding echoed at the front door. There was no answer. The only person who could open the door was currently lying breathless on the sofa. The knocking grew faster, louder, and more frantic. "Ethan Brooks!" Finally, I heard Marcus’s voice. "Open the door. I know you're inside."
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