I was sent to a correctional facility by my family for five years.

The first thing I learned there was obedience. If people told me to do one thing, I would never dare do anything else.

The day my wife, Casey Anderson, came to pick me up, she stood at the entrance and said coldly, "If you dare say another bad word about Roger, I'll make sure you never speak again."

The moment she finished speaking, I turned and ran straight into traffic.

When she saw me get thrown by the impact of the car, she nearly lost her footing.

At the hospital, my foster brother stood beside my bed with a sinister smile.

"So you actually managed to survive. But that's fine. I have plenty of ways to kill you and make sure you never make it home."

After saying that, he smashed the bowl of porridge onto the floor, then deliberately fell onto the shattered glass as he cried out loudly, "Bobby, if you hate me that much, I'll leave! Please, just let me go!"

My mother and Casey happened to walk in at that exact moment.

Casey immediately rushed over to help Roger up.

My mother, meanwhile, slapped me hard across the face.

"You'll never change, huh? If Roger's hand is ruined because of you and he can't play the piano anymore, I'd rather see you dead in this hospital bed."

Obediently, I walked toward the window and jumped.

The harsh, sharp-tongued woman who had always been my mother—and Casey as well—went completely pale with fear.

I happened to crash onto my father's car. Trembling, he threw open the door and shouted for the medical staff.

My consciousness gradually faded.

Then, a system suddenly appeared and said, "Congratulations, Host. You have completed ninety-nine tragic storylines. Finish this final one, and you will be able to return to your original world and revive your younger sister."

My internal organs had ruptured, and blood kept pouring from my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

If not for the fact that I couldn't die before completing my mission, I would've been long dead by now.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh.

"The patient was just involved in a car accident and then fell from a building. His internal injuries are severe, and nearly every bone in his body is fractured. We can only do our best. The rest… depends on fate.

"If you want us to proceed with treatment, the family needs to sign these first."

The doctor handed my father a surgical consent form along with a critical condition notice.

Standing beside him, my mother's face had gone deathly pale, and she nearly lost her balance.

"I only said it in the heat of the moment. How was I supposed to know Bobby would take it so seriously? I never meant…"

My father cut her off with a dark expression.

"Enough. What's the point of saying any of this now?"

After signing the documents, he handed them back to the doctor.

"Doctor, please. Save my son. As long as he survives, we'll pay whatever it costs."

The doctor nodded, took the paperwork, and hurried off to arrange the surgery.

My wife, Casey Anderson, looked at me lying in the operating room, covered in blood, and a trace of pain and reluctance flickered through her eyes.

Then she turned toward my foster brother, Roger Leander, beside her and asked flatly, "What exactly happened between you and Bobby just now? He was lying in a hospital bed with both hands broken from the accident. How could he possibly have pushed you?

"And he used to be so terrified of dying. How could he suddenly dare to jump from the fifth floor?"

The string of questions caught Roger off guard.

His eyes began to dart nervously.

"I… I don't know why Bobby jumped either. I was only trying to feed him some porridge, but he suddenly shoved me to the ground and said that sooner or later he'd kill me…

"Casey… are you suspecting me?"

He put on a wounded, aggrieved expression.

My mother immediately pulled Roger behind her protectively, her voice sharp and shrill.

"I raised Roger myself. I know exactly what kind of a man he is! He wouldn't even step on an ant. How could he possibly frame or hurt Bobby?"

The surgery lasted thirteen hours.

By the time I was wheeled back into the hospital room with tubes covering my body, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

On the morning of the third day, my consciousness drifted in and out through waves of agony.

I heard my mother's hushed complaints beside my bed.

"What a curse… He's never given anyone a moment of peace. Five years in the correctional facility and he still hasn't learned obedience. Pulling this kind of extreme stunt—who was he trying to scare? Stubborn to the bitter end…"

"Enough!"

My father's roar made my eardrums tremble.

"Our son nearly died! He's still unconscious, and you're already cursing him? Are you even his real mother?!"

Silence swallowed the hospital room for several seconds.

My father's breathing grew heavy. Then he turned toward Roger, forcing down his emotions.

"Roger, tell me the truth. What exactly happened that day?"

Roger's soft sobs filled the room as he choked out between tears, "Dad… even you don't believe me? I know… in this family, Mom's the only one who treats me well. Is it because I'm not your biological son? Is that why everything I do is wrong?

"Fine. I understand now. It's all my fault. I framed Bobby for trying to kill me. I shouldn't have stayed alive to get in his way—"

Before anyone could react, he suddenly rushed toward the window.

"I'll jump right now and apologize to Bobby with my life!"

"Roger, don't do anything stupid!"

"Stop him!"

Panicked screams and chaotic footsteps exploded through the room.

Roger shrieked at them, "Don't come any closer! If you do, I'll jump right now! Aren't all of you blaming me? Don't you all think I'm lying? Then I might as well die!"

Amid the chaos, I struggled to pry my eyes open.

Casey was the first to notice I was awake.

She looked at me without a trace of warmth in her eyes—only command.

"Bobby, no matter whose fault it is, apologize to Roger first. Convince him to come down, and we'll let this whole thing go…"

My father and mother both turned toward me as well, wearing identical expressions of pleading desperation.

The oxygen mask covered my mouth and nose. Every breath carried the metallic taste of blood.

I raised my trembling arm, locked in plaster, and used all my strength to rip off the mask and tear the IV needle from the back of my hand.

Drops of blood splattered across the pale bedsheets.

I climbed out of bed. Inside my body, broken bones shifted with faint, sickening cracks.

Then I knelt on the freezing tile floor, lowered my head toward the window, and whispered hoarsely, "It was my fault… I shouldn't have pushed you. Please don't jump…"

The moment I finished speaking, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Dark red blood splashed across the floor and spread rapidly. I collapsed forward, my forehead slamming against the ground.

This time, I couldn't get back up.

Casey stumbled backward as if she'd been burned. Then she suddenly turned and rushed out of the hospital room.

My mother froze for a second before finally screaming hysterically, "Doctor! Call the doctor, hurry!"

Doctors and nurses rushed into the room.

They lifted me back onto the bed and hurriedly reconnected the monitors and oxygen tubes.

The attending physician frowned deeply, his tone sharp with anger.

"The patient's injuries are already this severe. His bones haven't even started healing properly yet. How could you let him fall out of bed? How are you people taking care of him?"

He quickly checked my pupils and vital signs.

"If another accident happens, we really won't be able to save him. He still hasn't passed the critical stage and needs complete bed rest."

The doctor turned to my parents and carefully listed precautions.

"He cannot be left alone for twenty-four hours. Watch the monitor readings closely. If anything abnormal happens, press the call button immediately."

Only after giving several more instructions did the doctor finally leave.

The hospital room fell silent except for the steady beeping of the machines.

Two days later, I finally dragged myself out of the endless darkness and pain once again and opened my eyes.

Casey stood beside my bed, her expression unusually conflicted. A tablet was clutched in her hand, its screen displaying blurry surveillance footage.

"I went to the hospital security room… and found a child who was in the hallway that day."

Her voice sounded dry and strained.

"The child said… he saw Roger smash the bowl himself and lie down on the broken glass on purpose."

She lifted her head and looked toward Roger, who was curled up in the corner.

"Roger… why would you do something like that?"

My father's face instantly darkened with fury. He strode over to Roger in two steps and slapped him hard across the face.

"You bastard! Why would you treat Bobby like this?!"

The blow snapped Roger's head to the side, and his cheek immediately began to swell.

My mother instantly rushed over to shield him, heartbroken as she stroked his face.

"How could you hit Roger? Can't you talk things out properly? Roger must've had his reasons…"

Even Casey's expression softened slightly, though her lips remained tightly pressed as she looked at me.

Roger's eyes reddened instantly.

"Dad, Mom… I'm sorry. It was wrong of me. I really am sorry!

"I only did it because I was scared… You both know what I saw before—Bobby killed our sister…"

He looked at me in terror, as though I were some savage beast.

"And later, it was because I reported him that you sent him to the correctional facility. I was afraid he'd get revenge after he got out… especially since I'm only an adopted son…"

With a thud, Roger dropped to his knees beside my hospital bed and cried, "Bobby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have framed you. I swear I'll never do it again. Can you forgive me?"

As he sobbed, he reached out and tightly grabbed my right hand, which was fixed in plaster.

A piercing pain exploded instantly.

His grip landed directly on my fractured wrist bone.

I could clearly feel the bones—which had only just begun to heal—shift and crack apart again under the force of his grip.

Pain swallowed my vision whole, but I couldn't make a sound.

Casey and my mother both stared at my face.

Casey spoke softly, "Bobby, Roger only lost his head for a moment. What he said makes sense too—he was just frightened…"

My mother immediately chimed in, "Exactly. Besides, he never actually did anything to you. Jumping off the building… that was your own decision. You can't blame Roger for that.

"And Bobby, what's gotten into you lately? Over every little thing, you either want to die or make a scene. Are you still holding a grudge because we sent you to the correctional facility?"

Her voice turned cold and unforgiving.

"If you hadn't killed Alison, we wouldn't have sent you there in the first place. If you weren't my son, I would've sent you straight to prison a long time ago!"

I stared blankly at the ceiling, my vision blurred from the pain.

My lips moved beneath the oxygen mask, and a weak yet clear voice came out, "I changed… I've changed. I won't hurt anyone anymore. I'm very obedient now. You can make me do… anything."

The hospital room fell silent for a moment.

They all stared at me in disbelief. Not a single person believed what I said.

So they began testing me.

Casey looked at me for a long moment before suddenly reaching up and yanking the pendant from around my neck.

It was a matching pendant my little sister and I had worn since childhood—my most treasured possession.

Casey smashed it onto the floor without hesitation.

The pendant shattered into pieces.

I stared at the fragments with hollow eyes, utterly unmoved.

My parents seemed to relax at last. After giving a few more instructions, they left the room in exhaustion.

Casey said, "I'll stay here with Roger and take care of him."

The hospital room door closed.

The tears and fear instantly vanished from Roger's face. He walked to my bedside, bent down, and chuckled softly in a voice only I could hear.

"My dear brother, you really can endure anything. Let me tell you a secret. Casey and I have been together for a long time already. She has an amazing body."

That night, in the silent hospital room, rhythmic shaking noises and muffled, indecent moans came from the bed beside mine.

I only stared quietly at the pale ceiling.

The monitor beeped steadily through the night.

I never slept.

In the past, I would've gotten jealous if Roger and Casey exchanged even a few extra words. But now, not a ripple stirred in my heart.

Casey sat in the chair beside my bed, her gaze fixed on me with a complicated expression.

After staring at me for a long time, she finally spoke, her voice carrying the slightest tremor.

"Bobby… you heard everything last night, didn't you?"

I didn't answer. I only gazed quietly at a withered tree branch outside the window.

She stood up and walked to my bedside, looking down at me as though trying to read every trace of emotion on my face.

"Roger and I did it right beside you. Why aren't you angry? Wasn't this the thing you cared about most? Five years ago, you used to lose your mind just from seeing us get a little close…"

Her tone gradually sharpened, carrying the irritation of someone being ignored.

"What are you pretending for now? I smashed your pendant, and you aren't even angry?

"Your wife slept with another man. And you don't even blink?"

Slowly, I turned my eyes toward her.

The oxygen mask blurred my voice, but she could still hear me clearly.

"As long as you're happy. I… don't have the right to say anything."

The color drained from Casey's face instantly. It was as if those words had burned her. She stumbled back a step, disbelief, anger, and a trace of panic surging through her eyes.

Her lips parted, but in the end, she said nothing. She turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Silence returned to the hospital room.

But memories surged uncontrollably through my mind, vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

Five years ago, I had cut my business trip short to surprise Casey. But when I pushed open the living room door, I saw two intertwined figures on the couch.

Roger's shirt had been pulled up above his waist, while Casey lay beneath him in disheveled clothes.

My mind exploded with a loud buzz.

I rushed forward, yanked Roger away, and punched him hard across the face.

"Roger, you bastard! She's your sister-in-law!"

Roger wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes cold and mocking.

Casey hurriedly fixed her clothes without saying a single word.

Because of that incident, my parents scolded me harshly.

All they knew was that I had suddenly gone crazy and attacked Roger.

They never knew the reason.

No matter what I said, they refused to believe me. They only believed their adopted son.

So later, when Roger caused the death of their biological daughter… they still believed every word he said and assumed I was the murderer. Then they sent me to the correctional facility for five years.

As for me—the son they had only found after many years—I didn't deserve their trust.

For more than twenty years, Roger had occupied my name and stolen my family. Even my wife was someone he wanted to take away.

But the system told me this was a necessary part of the storyline. Only by enduring everything and completing every plotline could I return and save my real little sister.

So I stopped explaining. I stopped resisting.

During those five years in the correctional facility—beatings, electric shocks, solitary confinement, humiliation of every kind—I endured it all.