Chapter Text
The principal called his name.
"Kim Juhoon."
The entire hall burst into applause as Juhoon walked up the stage.
He had just finished 11th grade with a perfect score.
600 out of 600.
Nobody looked surprised.
It was Kim Juhoon.
The smartest student in school.
Everything about him seemed perfect.
If there was a word better than perfect, people would probably use it to describe him.
His father was the President of the country.
His mother used to be a famous model, Known for her beauty.
She had married his father when she was only 20 years old. Now she was 40, still much younger than her 60 years old husband.
People called her a gold digger.
People always had something to say.
Juhoon was their only child.
Ever since he was young, cameras had followed him everywhere.
Paparazzi.
Reporters.
Strangers staring at him in public.
He never went anywhere alone. 10 bodyguards followed him everywhere he went.
People knew his face before they knew his name.
As he stood beside the principal, holding his certificate, Juhoon glanced down at the crowd.
Hundreds of eyes were looking back at him.
Some admired him.
Some envied him.
Some hated him.
He could tell without hearing a single word.
The way they looked at him said enough.
Nepo baby.
President's son.
Privileged.
Spoiled.
Nobody ever saw just Juhoon.
Only his last name.
The applause echoed through the hall.
Juhoon accepted the certificate and gave a small bow.
His father wasn't there.
His mother wasn't there either.
Just strangers cheering for him.
Not because they were proud.
Because of who he was.
Or rather, who his father was.
The applause suddenly felt very far away.
---
That evening, Juhoon returned home.
The mansion was silent.
Like always.
He owned more houses than most people would see in their entire lives.
Homes in different cities.
Different countries.
Different continents.
Yet none of them felt like home.
His father was constantly traveling, attending meetings, parties, and dinners with politicians and business partners.
Sometimes models too.
His mother was rarely around either.
She spent most of her time with friends, shopping, or disappearing on trips Juhoon never heard about until after they happened.
The house was huge.
Too huge.
Every room felt empty.
Sometimes Juhoon wondered if his parents even remembered they had a son.
His birthdays were always the same.
Expensive gifts.
Luxury watches.
New cars.
Money.
Everything except a simple text saying,
"Happy Birthday, son."
Even after scoring full marks, he already knew no congratulation message would arrive.
At some point, he had stopped expecting one.
He sat alone in his room, staring at the ceiling.
Since he was little, he had learned one thing.
He would never be worth their time.
Most days, he accepted it.
But sometimes,
sometimes he wanted to lose control.
He wanted to stop being perfect.
To stop studying.
To fail.
To curse at everyone.
To go online and tell the entire world exactly what he thought.
Maybe disappear somewhere nobody knew his name.
Somewhere nobody cared about presidents or fame.
But he never did.
Because despite everything, he didn't want to become another scandal attached to his father's name.
The media already hated him enough.
Every article called him arrogant.
Every headline painted him as a spoiled rich kid.
Once, paparazzi had surrounded him outside school, asking how he felt about his mother using his father for money.
Juhoon had ignored them and walked away.
The next day, the internet called him rude.
Nothing he did was ever right.
He hated the attention.
He hated being watched.
He hated people thinking they knew him.
Every birthday, he made the same wish.
A normal life.
A warm family.
---
"It is insane."
The whisper wasn't loud.
But it was loud enough.
Juhoon froze.
The school was hosting a goodbye party before summer break.
Normally, he never attended these things.
But his teacher had personally invited him.
So he came.
it was a big mistake.
"I know, right?" another classmate whispered. "His dad is dating a 17 years old model."
They laughed.
"She's younger than Juhoon."
Juhoon's fingers tightened around his drink.
His stomach twisted.
The two students noticed him.
Their smiles disappeared.
Then one of them muttered,
"His dad is such a weirdo."
That was enough.
Juhoon turned around and walked away.
---
Later that night, he lay on his bed and opened Instagram.
Thousands of notifications waited for him.
He clicked on his latest post.
The comments appeared immediately.
— Do you know your dad is a creep?
— How does it feel knowing your dad steals people's money?
— Stop spending OUR money.
— Your dad shouldn't be president.
— Your mom is dating guys half her age. Your family is a joke.
— No wonder you're rude.
Juhoon's chest felt heavy.
He locked his phone.
The room became quiet again.
The worst part was that he couldn't even defend his father.
Because most of it was true.
He barely knew the man anymore.
After staring at the wall for several minutes, he picked up his phone again.
And called.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
By the fifteenth call, his father finally picked up.
"What?"
Juhoon swallowed.
"Hi, Dad."
"Why are you calling me?"
The coldness in his voice hurt more than Juhoon expected.
"I just wanted to ask if the rumors are true."
His father laughed.
A short, careless laugh.
"I didn't think you cared about what people say."
"Everyone at school is talking about it."
"So?"
Juhoon closed his eyes.
"Dad... is it true?"
A pause.
Then,
"Most rumors about me are true. I just don't care."
The answer made his chest sink.
"But... she's younger than me?"
His father sighed impatiently.
"She's exactly where she wants to be."
The words made Juhoon feel sick.
"Stop worrying about things that don't concern you."
"Dad."
"Do you need money or something? Is that why you're calling?"
The line went silent.
Juhoon stared at his phone.
For a second, he thought he might cry.
Instead, he just ended the call.
The room felt colder than before.
Juhoon stared at the invitation card for a long time.
The paper was expensive, decorated with gold letters and neat handwriting.
His favorite teacher's birthday.
A celebration.
A place full of laughter.
A place full of people.
A place where everyone would be looking at him.
Eventually, he folded the invitation and placed it inside his desk drawer.
He never went.
The next morning, when the party started, Juhoon stayed in bed.
His phone buzzed constantly.
Messages from some classmates.
Messages from teachers.
He ignored every single one.
One day became three.
Three days became a week.
Then two.
Then three.
For almost three weeks, Juhoon barely left his room.
The curtains remained closed.
The lights stayed off.
Food was delivered to his door by house staff.
Sometimes he ate.
Sometimes he forgot.
Nobody checked on him.
Nobody asked if he was okay.
His parents were too busy living their own lives.
The mansion was so large that it was easy for a person to disappear inside it.
And Juhoon had become very good at disappearing.
---
On Monday day, somebody knocked on his bedroom door.
Three short knocks.
Then another.
Juhoon frowned.
Nobody usually bothered him.
"Come in."
The door opened.
One of his father's employees stepped inside.
A middle-aged man wearing a suit.
Juhoon recognized him immediately.
He worked for his father's public relations team.
That alone made Juhoon's stomach sink.
The man looked uncomfortable.
"Young master."
Juhoon already hated where this conversation was going.
"What happened?"
The man hesitated.
Then handed him a tablet.
"You should see this."
Juhoon looked down.
His name was everywhere.
Thousands of posts.
Millions of views.
His chest tightened.
"What is this?"
The employee sighed.
"Someone online accused you of bullying."
Juhoon's eyebrows furrowed.
"What?"
The employee opened a video.
A former classmate was crying on camera.
Claiming Juhoon had bullied him.
Claiming Juhoon looked down on other students.
Claiming he made classmates feel inferior.
The comments were brutal.
— Rich kids are all the same.
— I knew he wasn't innocent.
— His parents are busy stealing people' money to teach him basic manners.
— Another spoiled politician's son, what a surprise.
Juhoon felt sick.
None of it was true.
He barely talked to anyone at school.
How could he bully someone he never even spoke to?
But the internet didn't care.
The story had already spread.
People believed what they wanted to believe.
The employee rubbed his forehead.
"The media picked it up this morning."
Juhoon stared at the screen.
Thousands of strangers hated him.
Again.
For something he didn't even do, and he never really get used to it.
---
That evening, his father called.
For a moment, Juhoon almost felt relieved.
Maybe his father was calling to ask if he was okay.
Maybe for once..
"Do you know what kind of mess you've created?"
Juhoon's hope disappeared immediately.
His father sounded furious.
"Dad, I didn't do anything."
"I don't care if you did it or not."
"you really did mess up!"
Juhoon closed his eyes.
His father continued.
"My reputation is already bad enough."
"Dad."
"You need to stop creating problems."
"I didn't create this."
"Then fix it."
The call ended.
Just like that.
He didn't ask if the accusations were true.
how Juhoon felt.
As always.
Juhoon lowered the phone slowly.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Harder to breathe in.
He didn't even cry, although his eyes are burning, he didn't let a single tear roll down.
He just wish he woke up with a new life.
---
Three days later, Juhoon made a decision.
A very simple one.
He was leaving.
Not forever.
Maybe.
He didn't know.
He just knew he couldn't stay here anymore.
Nobody would stop him anyway.
Nobody was paying attention.
His father was overseas.
His mother was vacationing somewhere in Europe.
The staff assumed he was staying in his room like usual.
So one night, Juhoon packed a suitcase.
A few clothes.
His passport.
Some cash.
A laptop.
Nothing else.
The mansion remained silent as he walked out.
His bodyguards are not there.
No one noticed.
No one followed him.
Leaving the country is easy, when he showed his passport, the staff looked at him, obviously judging but
It was fine.
Because nobody was actually looking at him.
They were only looking at his name.
---
The plane landed in Ottawa early in the morning.
The sky was gray.
The air was cold.
Juhoon stepped outside the airport and took a deep breath.
Nobody recognized him.
Nobody whispered.
Nobody pointed cameras at him.
People walked past him without even looking.
It felt strange.
and He loved it.
Juhoon stood there with a suitcase in one hand.
Completely alone in a foreign country.
The version of himself nobody had ever cared to know.
For the first time in his life, Kim Juhoon wasn't the president's son.
He was just a boy, a normal teenager.