At dawn, when the sun had just risen, I woke up early. I slipped on my slippers and slowly walked out of my room. Passing through the living room, everything was still pitch dark.

I yawned, turned on the bathroom faucet, cupped cold water, and splashed it on my face.

After washing up, I headed to the kitchen. Suddenly, I noticed someone was already there.

She must have heard a sound and turned around, looking at me. "Yuxuan? Go wake your dad. Breakfast is ready."

I nodded. "Okay." Then I walked to my father's bedroom.

A few days ago, my father had happily announced he'd find me a mom. Soon after, she appeared here.

I really don't get what adults think. But it's none of my business—I've always been the most superfluous person in this family. What right do I have to demand anything?

At my father's bedside, I nudged him. "Dad, time to get up. Auntie made breakfast."

He wasn't sleeping deeply. Hearing my voice, he sat up. Seeing he was awake, I turned and walked straight back to my room, starting to pack my things.

Staring at the mess before me, I recalled school and home. My heart churned with old emotions.

Now, I've lost all interest. I truly feel superfluous in this world—my existence is God's mistake.

I've thought a lot, tried things, even suicide. But it hurt so much that living felt better. So this cowardly me survived again. To ease the pain, I holed up at home like a parasite.

Since meeting my current mother, I've seen my father smile for the first time in ages. With my last bit of conscience, I decided to help him keep her—at least, I'd behave well these days.

I sat at the table like a robot, picking up food with chopsticks, chewing slowly. This was probably the only proof I was still human.

After breakfast, I grabbed my shoulder bag and left. Before going, I faked a goodbye.

I sighed deeply, heading toward the abandoned old residential area. Even for school, I couldn't bear interacting with anyone. Just locking eyes for a second made me uncomfortable.

After a short walk, my shoulders ached. "Figures," I thought. "Haven't moved in so long—even a bag feels heavy."

I hugged the bag to my chest and kept walking. Rounding a corner, my head slammed into something hard.

"Ah... that hurts!" I rubbed my head; the bag flew out of my hands.

I looked up. A terrifying face loomed over me.

"Kid, you bumped into me! And you're whining about pain?"

Seeing his fierce glare, I stepped back. Two more guys closed in around me.

"Listen, kid," he growled. "Pay up for my 'injuries,' or today you'll learn who runs this neighborhood."

I spotted two people approaching in the distance. Just as I was about to call for help, the bespectacled one tugged his friend's arm.

I sighed. Of course. No one ever helps me when I'm desperate.

Even the most hopeless cling to a hint of hope—that someone will reach out in their darkest hour.

But now, that hope is gone. Shattered.

Indeed, I'm superfluous.

I slowly closed my eyes, bracing for the "judgment" of those three delinquents.