Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Aurora's words triggered a flood of memories in Mio's mind.

He had lost both parents at a young age. Despite being part of the Walsh family, a powerful and influential

lineage, had always been treated coldly due to his background.

Children his age would play in the garden, yet he could never blend in. He had no parents and no notable status

to his name.

"Hey, Mio, go fetch the ball for us," one of the kids ordered.

"Why don't you get it yourselves? You've got arms and legs, haven't you?" shot back. Every day, they would

cup with new ways to bully him.

"Oh, talking back now? You little orphan, go get it!"

They taunted him with his parents' absence every time. Because of what his mother had done, was looked

down upon and called a bastard.

He couldn't understand why the sins of adults were forced upon a child. He had done nothing wrong.

Reluctantly, he went to fetch the ball. The garden was still damp from the rain, and the soil clung to his shoes.

The other children didn't want to dirty their own.

wandered into the garden, mud sticking to his feet. It was a rose field, brimming with thorns. Carefully, he

searched for the shuttlecock.

"Where is it? | can't see it," he muttered after a long search.

"It's there. | saw it fly that way. Look harder," one of the kids insisted.

"Try bending down. It might be hidden under the roses," another suggested.

bent down to search, unaware that one of the boys had snuck up behind him. Suddenly, a sharp kick landed

on his back.

"Ah!" lost his balance and fell into the rose bushes. He was only six years old that year. His small body was

pricked and torn by the thorns, leaving him bloodied and in pain. He lay in the mud, humiliated and hurting.

The other children burst into laughter.

"Look at him, like a little clown! So funny!"

"Yeah, hilarious! Hahaha!"

Not a single child cto help him. It was a cold season, and was dressed thinly. His fragile body was

covered in wounds, thorns still embedded in his skin.

Slowly, he got up, careful not to cry or make a scene. His pale, hand-me-down clothes were now stained with

mud and blood.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have | ever done to you?" he shouted at them, his voice hoarse with

frustration. Weren't children supposed to be innocent? Why were they acting like little demons?

"Why? Because of your mother, of course! Everyone knows she was a prostitute. She slept with countless men to

pay her debts. You don't even know who your father is. Disgusting!"

"You bastard! | heard your mom got sick before she died. You're her son, aren't you? Maybe you're sick too!"

"Get out of the Walsh family! Stop embarrassing us!"

The insults hit like bricks, each one heavier than the last. Their mocking voices echoed in his ears.

"I won't let you insult her!" screamed, charging at them like a wild animal. Blood dripped from his wounds,

but the pain in his heart was far worse. The children, terrified by his ferocity, scattered in all directions.

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"Mio's gone crazy! Run!"

The Walsh family had assigned an elderly woman, nearly sixty, to take care of Mio. She was the only person in

the household who showed him kindness.

When she saw the filthy, wounded little boy in the courtyard, her face fell.

"Why are your clothes so dirty again? What happened to your face?"

"Grandma, they said my mom was a prostitute. My mom wasn't like that, was she?" Mio's eyes brimmed with

tears, his small face bearing scratches from the rose thorns.

His body was covered in cuts and bruises, caked with mud. He was such a delicate child, the kind others would

cherish and protect. Yet, he had endured so much suffering from such a young age.

"Of course not. Don't listen to their nonsense. Oh, you're covered in blood!"

"They trickedinto fetching a ball and pushedinto the rose bushes. That's why I'm hurt," explained.

"Those little brats! Lettake a look." The old woman's heart ached as she examined him. Sthorns were

still lodged in his skin, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Mio, does it hurt?" Her tears fell onto Mio's small hand.

"Grandma, don't cry. It doesn't hurt. Really, it doesn't hurt at all." pulled out the remaining thorns himself.

"See? It doesn't hurt."

Growing up in such an environment, was far more mature than other children his age. He wiped away his

grandmother's tears with his tiny hands.

Though she wasn't his biological grandmother, had long regarded her as family. His only dream was to

protect her.

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The elderly woman had no children of her own. A birthmark on her face had left her unmarried and alone. She

had worked for the Walsh family her entire life and was later assigned to care for Mio.

Watching him grow up, bullied every day, she could do nothing for him. She was just a lowly servant.

"Good boy, my precious child. You must work hard and make something of yourself. Only then will no one be able

to hurt you anymore."

"Grandma, | know. When | grow up and earn money, I'll buy a big house and bring you

to live with me." Mio's face lit up with a hopeful smile as he imagined the future.

"Good. will definitely buy a big house," she said, her voice warm with encouragement.

From then on, worked twice as hard in school, excelling in his studies. He ignored the taunts and jabs from

others because he knew that one day, he would rise above them all and crush those who had insulted him.

Gradually, his outstanding performance caught the attention of the Walsh family's higher-ups. knew he had

taken his first step toward success.

The family's administrators would select promising children to groom for future roles

in the company. seized this opportunity and worked tirelessly.

Mr. Grant, a key figure in the family, took notice of and decided to mentor him. was obedient and

diligent, earning Mr. Grant's favor.

Finally, Mio's chance arrived. Tina had run away! The family's leaders were in a panic, unable to find her after

months of searching.

They decided they needed a backup heir. Initially, they chose Mira, but she refused, even threatening to take her

own life rather than accept the role.

Mr. Grant, against all objections, nominated Mio. Traditionally, the Walsh family had never allowed a man to lead,

but among the younger generation, only Mira and were qualified.

With Mira unwilling, becthe only option. Mr. Grant persuaded the family by framing it as a precautionary

measure, and was named the heir-apparent.

From that moment, worked even harder. Mr. Grant promised that once turned eighteen, he would

officially becthe head of the family.

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