Chapter 2

The first twenty years of my life were spent in this suffocating cycle of neglect and contempt.

In the beginning, I craved their love. I longed for my sister to look up to me. But no matter how hard I tried, all I ever got was ridicule.

Once, when I aced my finals and ranked first in the class, I ran home with my report card—only to find Chloe sobbing in Mom's arms.

"My grades slipped! Mom, you have to hire me an elite private tutor! The most expensive one! I refuse to lose to anyone!"

Mom cooed, stroking her hair. "Of course, sweetheart. My Chloe is destined for greatness. We won't let anyone beat you."

Eager to prove myself, I held out my report card. "Mom, look! I got straight A's! First place in the entire class!"

Mom glared at me with cold fury. "Can't you see your sister is stressed out about her grades? Are you doing this on purpose to humiliate her?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off impatiently. "Get lost! You have zero emotional intelligence. You're an eyesore!"

Silently, I took that report card—the result of countless sleepless nights—and buried it at the very bottom of my desk drawer. Whenever their insults cut too deep, I would sneak it out and look at it, just to remind myself that I wasn't complete trash.

Chloe was naturally gifted in performing arts: singing, dancing, playing instruments—she had it all.

Once, I gathered the courage to enter a campus singing contest. My voice was naturally deep, a bit raspy and husky. When I practiced in my attic, Chloe pounded on the door, laughing hysterically. "What are you doing? I thought an ugly dying frog was croaking in here!"

Mom shouted from downstairs, "Taylor, shut up! That sounds horrifying!"

I was about to withdraw my registration, but a classmate stopped me. "Taylor, your voice has this incredible, soulful grit. It tells a story. It's honestly one of the best things I've ever heard!"

I ended up winning third place in that competition.

When I brought the certificate home, Chloe scoffed. "Mom, look at her! She must've begged the judges to throw her a pity prize just to spite me!"

Mom rolled her eyes. "With that raspy, ugly voice, she just got dumb lucky." She added bitterly, "Sneaky little schemer. God knows whose genes she inherited."

All my blood, sweat, and tears were dismissed as cheap luck and malicious schemes.

Nothing I did would ever earn their validation. That certificate joined the other one at the bottom of my drawer. After that day, I never shared a single achievement with them again.

Instead, I channeled everything inside me—all the hurt, the loneliness, the yearning—into digital art and webcomics.

I realized something: as long as I wasn't competing in Chloe's lane, they didn't bother targeting me. In fact, they simply forgot I existed.

If I sang or danced, Chloe got offended. So, I kept my mouth shut and drew.

I submitted my original webcomics to online creative contests under a pen name and swept several top awards.

In my fictional worlds, my protagonists could scream, break the rules, unlock extraordinary powers, and be showered with unconditional love from people who cherished them.

In reality, I had none of that. So I poured every ounce of my soul into those characters.

When AI visual tools and short-form animations blew up, I adapted my comics into dynamic webtoons and animated clips for TikTok and YouTube. It opened up a brand-new world for me.

In my tiny studio apartment, I worked part-time during the day and drew late into the night. Staying constantly occupied was a blessing; when every minute was packed with passion, I had no time to grieve over my broken family.

Just one month after I moved out, the premiere episode of my animated web series dropped online.

Within twenty-four hours, it went viral, smashing past ten million views.

The comments section exploded:

【Author-nim, please drop the next episode right now! I need it to breathe!】

【Even factory machines take breaks, but YOU CANNOT! Update faster, queen!】

"Drop thirty episodes a day, please!"

"This is so moving and painfully real. Toxic families are the worst. If I had the main character's spine, I would've walked out of my house without looking back too!"

Seeing thousands of comments sharing my pain validated everything I had buried deep down. Being born into this family wasn't my sin—it was theirs.

They never bothered to see my worth, and they never cared to discover my potential. I deserved to be loved.