Pistanthrophobia (Ongoing) 4

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Hunter

(opens his eyes angrily, and immediately destroys his alarm clock)

Hunter

**Bùllshìt!**

Hunter

Fùck! (groans)

That was the twentieth alarm clock he had ‘accidentally’ destroyed this month, convinced they were the real culprits behind his miserable mornings—which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely untrue.

Hunter

fùck, do i have to buy again a new one ?

Hunter

great, fùcking great!

He soon stood up from his king-sized bed and headed to the bathroom to take his morning shower and follow his usual routine.

Afterwards, he dressed in some of his branded, cool clothes, carefully applying deodorant and body spray. Glancing at the mirror on his closet door, he checked his reflection—and soon smirked, clearly satisfied with how he looked, ready to face the campus.

Hunter

heh, handsome, as always...(smirks)

He then walked out of his massive room and headed downstairs to eat breakfast before leaving for school. Arriving at the kitchen of their mansion, he made his way to the table where his breakfast—prepared earlier by the longtime housekeeper—awaited him. He sat down on one of the chairs and soon began digging into the delicious meal.

He was mostly alone at the table, but as soon as he spotted Esther, the elderly lady who had worked in the house for years, he quickly called out to her with a question.

Hunter

hey Esther, where's mom ?

Esther

oh, she already left...

Hunter

well how about Hermione ?

Esther

still on her room...(chuckles softly)

Hunter

(just hums) kay...

The old lady simply smiled softly before returning to her duties, leaving Hunter alone with his swirling thoughts about his family.

As the firstborn of a multibillionaire father and a graceful, kind-hearted businesswoman, Hunter had the world practically at his fingertips. He could have anything he wanted, whenever he wanted it—and that was no exaggeration.

But despite the privileges, he wasn’t spoiled. Materialism wasn’t a part of his vocabulary, and he hated the word itself. It reminded him too much of his cold, ruthless father—an unforgiving man who once told him, with chilling conviction, that power outweighed love for family. Just the memory of those words made Hunter’s stomach churn.

His mother, in stark contrast, was everything a mother should be—caring, supportive, and endlessly patient. Though unlucky to have married such a man, she loved her husband nonetheless. She worked tirelessly, yet always found time for her children. No matter how exhausted she was, she made space for her son and daughter in her heart and life.

And then there was Hermione—Hunter’s younger sister. Her name was as beautiful as she was, a true reflection of their mother’s elegance. Hermione was undeniably stunning, having inherited her mother’s grace and charm. She was a fiercely supportive sister, but also known for being sneakily stubborn—traits that made her both endearing and challenging in equal measure.