Chapter Text
Yang in Korean meant Bridge
But to the underground world, it's a call, a last name of respect that many should respect along with many other last names.
The name, or rather the people who had it, has built the reputation that caught every gangs' respect, being the oldest striving gang of all time through thick and thin.
That's what Jeongin was taught by his personal tutor though.
And being the only heir from the respected gang itself, he was praised like a God that descended from the heavens to grace everyone of his presence.
'Yang Jeongin, a boy who's prodigal brilliance at a young age came from his father, his perfectly sculpted appearance was taken from his mother. His talents seemed to be gifted from the Gods, while his melodic voice was gifted from the sirens, and in all possible ways from him is perfect.'
But was it all true?
Those praises… He had countlessly heard it ever since he could remember from the people his parents knew, but he never knew them, and even through all of those compliments he had no clue of what his parents thought of him as they never really acknowledged his presence as a son and only as a heir.
But no matter, he was taught to only obey and not question them. He needs to act proper, with eloquence and grace with no mistakes in his ways, so he could be the perfect child his parents had ever wished.
He was convinced that when he would achieve this then he could get their attention soon enough when he's perfect.
But let's go down to the memory lane,
shall we?
His memory all vividly started on his 5th birthday, the age where he could fully comprehend as toddler, but only the most empty yet extravagant praises of strangers could be heard as he danced on his first public birthday celebration, showing his vulnerable self to dangers of the world, and one of them are people.
'Our talented Yang Jeongin is so skilled!'
'He needs to be trained to perfection to be the head of the Yang family.'
'I bet if he started the program right now he would finish it early unlike his peers.'
'A prodigy indeed!'
He only learnt how to dance properly and perfectly just so he could impress his parents aside from preparing himself for his debut. The pain he had to endure as he fell and scratched himself so many times that there were still bruises visible around his body that his servants even had a hard time to hide.
But it was worth it, right?
He tried to search for their eyes on him… but his gaze was only met with people he didn't know. Where were his parents? He thought they were by his side, just like how the servants have promised...
Spotting the familiar dress and suit of his mother and father, he tried to call out to them but he had stopped when he saw them conversing with a guest that was probably important.
Gazing down on his feet, he hid his disappointed look as he convinced himself; 'Yeah, no matter. They were busy', so he could show it to them personally later on with an upbeat skip on his step still.
But it never came.
...
For the past 2 years he tried to learn skating, fencing, playing instruments, whatever hobby these almost plastic-faced people would suggest to him on that day. It took him many tries to even master one of them but he persevered as did the wounds and bruises on his body fester.
But no matter how hard he tried after mastering it, his parents never gave him the same attention he was given from these people. The people that only fueled his desperation.
It only means that he needs to try harder, he doesn't need to ask for their praise, he'll impress them by himself! He convinced himself harder.
Crack
He needs to. He has to.
