Cowardly Me: She Bleeds When I Bleed

I'm a coward—someone who gets bullied and never fights back, who only swallows the humiliation in silence.

That is, until the year I turned twenty. A well-dressed, elegant couple found me and told me I was their long-lost son.

Overjoyed, I followed them back to their castle-like home, convinced that I was finally about to live a better life.

But on the very first day, the fake heir made it clear—I would never know a moment's peace.

I didn't dare say a word. Cowardly as ever, I could only think about ending my life.

The first time, I slit my wrists. They saved me.

The second time, I tried to jump off a building. My sister dragged me back.

The third time, I drank an entire bottle of pesticide—and still didn't die.

…

My family finally saw through the fake heir's true color.

"So it was you, pulling the strings all along!"

My sister plead, "Brother dear, I'm begging you—please don't kill yourself."

When my biological parents found me, I was under an overpass, applying screen protectors to phones.

A well-dressed couple rushed up and grabbed my hands, their faces full of emotion.

"My dear son, we finally found you! Come home with us—quickly!"

I looked at them, then at the phone in my hand, half-covered with a screen protector full of air bubbles, and fell into thought.

Wasn't this scam a little too cliché?

It wasn't until they produced a DNA report—and transferred a six-figure "allowance" to me on the spot—that I finally believed them.

I really was the long-lost heir of a wealthy family.

I thought my life was about to turn into one of those "the king returns" power fantasies.

Instead, on the very first day I came home, I realized I'd walked straight into something more like The True Heir's Survival Guide…

At that moment, the fake heir, Shane, tossed the watch my mother had given me straight into the toilet.

"Don't think that just because you're back, there's a place for you in this house."

He tilted his chin so high it looked like it could pierce the ceiling.

"You're nothing but a countryside bastard. Trash that doesn't belong on any stage. No matter how expensive the watch you wear, it won't cover up that stench of poverty on you!"

I didn't dare speak. My fists clenched at my sides, then slowly loosened again.

Damn it. My cowardice was acting up again.

Seeing me like that only made him laugh harder.

"I've lived this long, and no one's ever dared to go against me! Take a good look—this watch's fate is your fate!"

With that, he hit the flush. The watch spun once and vanished.

I stood there, heart aching.

Damn—that was a six-figure luxury watch!

Coward that I was, I silently returned to my room, shut the door, and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled around me as my eyes reddened.

I thought coming back here meant I'd finally live a good life. Turns out, a life like this isn't worth living at all.

I couldn't beat him, and I couldn't outtalk him. Better to die early and start over in the next life.

I picked up the delicate letter opener on my desk. Without hesitation, I dragged it across my wrist.

Warm blood poured out, and for the first time, I felt a sense of release.

Just as my consciousness began to blur and I prepared to embrace death, a piercing scream rang out from downstairs.

"Ah—Lizzie! Lizzie, what happened?!"

It was my mother's voice.

But she wasn't calling my name.