Morning sunlight pierced through the wooden lattice of the window, warm and pristine, sweeping across the floor like a thin golden blanket.
The air outside felt extraordinarily fresh, clearer than any ordinary morning—as if the storm the night before had scrubbed the entire city clean, leaving only the shimmer of dew on leaves that trembled lightly in the breeze.
Arka's bedroom door creaked open slowly.
He emerged with a long yawn, stretching his arms high above his head. His body was still languid with sleep, his hair rebelling in every direction. His bare chest reflected the soft morning light, and his pajama pants hung loosely, following his sluggish steps.
He walked into the dining room with eyes still half-closed—only to snap them open slightly when he saw his grandfather arranging plates of ginger fried rice and sunny-side-up eggs on the table.
What made Arka frown wasn't breakfast, but his Grandfather's appearance.
He wasn't wearing his usual shabby singlet and loose trousers. Today, he wore the cotton robes of the Temple Guardian—black and white, neatly layered—garb worn only for significant affairs in the temple out back. The hem of the fabric swayed softy as his Grandfather turned.
"Gramps," Arka said, his voice hoarse with sleep.
"So formal. That's rare."
Up close, his Grandfather's face looked gaunter than usual, with faint circles of exhaustion beneath his eyes. Yet, his sharp gaze remained as piercing as ever.
"Insolent brat," he snapped flatly.
"Sit down and eat. Put a shirt on."
"Yeah, yeah..." Arka yawned again, too lazy to heed the command about the shirt. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and let the aroma of ginger fried rice fill his head.
Minutes later, the scent of breakfast still hung in the air, but Arka had already emerged from the bathroom—wet hair, smelling of soap, dressed in faded jeans and a clean t-shirt. He snatched his backpack from the floor, feeling the weight of the books he had finished the night before.
"Gramps! I'm off to campus!" he called out, hurriedly tying his sneakers near the front door.
"BYE BYE, GRAMPS!"
He opened the door and was about to dash out when his Grandfather's voice shot from the kitchen, loud and filled with a strange, manic energy.
"SPEND YOUR MONEY! AND ASK FOR MORE!"
Arka froze mid-step.
He turned back with the most confused expression of the morning.
"HUH?! CRAZY! SERIOUSLY, GRAMPS?!"
From inside, a raspy laugh echoed out.
"YES! DON'T THINK YOUR GRANDFATHER IS POOR!"
"I AM FILTHY RICH!"
Arka stared blankly for a second, then laughter exploded from his chest, loud and uncontrollable.
"HAHAHA, OKAY! OKAYYY!"
With a wide grin, he ran out, following the stone path past the ancient trees. Morning dew reflected softly on the tips of the leaves as he swung his arms cheerfully, though no one was watching. He passed the old gate of the house and entered the modern residential area, where the post-storm air felt crisp and the wet earth radiated a warm scent as it was stung by the sun.
He had only taken a few steps when his pace slowed.
Across the street, a man in a windbreaker stood leaning against a utility pole. The weather wasn't cold, yet his jacket was zipped up tight. His face was unfamiliar, his movements too still.
Further down, near the small park, two more men stood beside a plain white van with no side windows. They spoke quietly, occasionally glancing around.
Arka watched them briefly, his brow furrowing. He knew the faces of the neighbors who usually jogged or walked their dogs. These faces were different: stiff, cold, alert—as if waiting for something.
Strange—usually the area around his Grandfather's house was desolate, as if people actively avoided it.
But Arka shrugged.
Maybe inspection officers... or whatever.
Not his business.
He patted his backpack, ensuring the front pocket zipper was closed. His fingers brushed the shape of a small folding umbrella and a plastic poncho—a new habit he'd picked up lately, ever since the weather began to change drastically without warning.
He continued walking, whistling softly, his mind already moving on to morning coffee and new headphones.
✧ ✧ ✧
Once Arka disappeared around the bend, silence reclaimed the sprawling yard.
The man at the utility pole dropped the pretense. His phone vibrated briefly—a confirmation message. In an instant, his casual demeanor vanished. He straightened his posture, the lines of his face turning cold and professional. Without hesitation, he crossed the street and slipped through the slightly open old iron gate.
Beneath the shadows of the leafy rain trees, the Grandfather was waiting.
He stood tall in his Temple Guardian robes, his face exhausted but resolute.
No greetings were exchanged.
The Grandfather extended a thick envelope—high-quality cream parchment, sealed with dark red wax bearing the emblem of an ancient clan. The symbol was deeply engraved with an intricate pattern known to very few in the kingdom.
The man accepted it, nodded respectfully, and tucked the precious document into the inner pocket of his coat. He left as quickly as he came, his steps efficient, vanishing past the gate. Seconds later, the sound of the van's engine purred to life and faded into the distance, leaving the street in silence once more.
The Grandfather stood alone in the yard. The warm morning light touched his robes, but the cold that clung to his heart remained unmoved.
"It has begun," he muttered.
He went back inside the silent wooden house. As he poured himself tea, his hand trembled slightly from fatigue.
Suddenly—
RING! RING! RING!
The antique house phone rang, its shrill sound piercing the air.
The Grandfather closed his eyes for a moment. He knew exactly who was calling. He lifted the heavy black receiver.
"Yes."
A brief silence. Then, the static of an international connection hissed before Arka's father's voice came through—tense, suppressed.
"...How is it, Dad? I... I was hoping he wouldn't succeed."
The Grandfather's face tightened.
"YOU UNGRATEFUL SON!"
His outburst echoed off the wooden walls.
"WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, HUH?! IS AN EASY LIFE THE ONLY THING IN YOUR BRAIN?!"
"Dad! Listen to me!" the voice on the other end sounded panicked.
"Do you want your grandson to live a hard life, huh?!"
"DEVIL CHILD!"
The Grandfather slammed his hand against the wooden wall.
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! WE ARE AN ANCIENT CLAN! WE HAVE DIGNITY AND STATUS! You have high rank but low logic! This is the time for our clan to TAKE THE STAGE!"
"Dad, you're insane!"
"What are you thinking about?! Your grandson's safety and life... or your damn medals?!"
A short silence hung in the air.
The Grandfather took a deep breath, his voice lowering into a cold hiss.
"YOU NEVER LEARN, BOY. That is the problem. I told you to have many children. Why did only one come out? FIND MANY WIVES AND PROSPER OUR FAMILY WITH MANY GRANDCHILDREN! YOU IDIOT!"
There was a stifled sigh on the other end.
"YOU DIDN'T THINK IT THROUGH EITHER, DAD! WHY AM I YOUR ONLY SON!!!"
CLICK.
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
The Grandfather stared blankly at the phone before slamming the receiver back into its cradle.
"Idiot," he muttered.
"Both equally stupid."
He leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy, his anger remaining as a thick residue of exhaustion.
"I also hoped Arka wouldn't succeed, you stubborn child..."
His voice was now nothing but a fragile whisper.
RING! RING! RING!
The phone rang again. The Grandfather snatched the receiver, assuming his son was back to argue.
"WHAT NOW?!"
"Dad, wait!" his son's voice—this time more serious, void of anger.
"I just received a domestic assignment. It is a secret mission. As an Aksesa. Remember, Dad... our family only has three Aksesas. You, the old conservative; me; and Arka."
The Grandfather fell silent for a moment, the reality pressing down on his shoulders.
"In that case," he said softly,
"Come home quickly."
"Yes."
"Oh, by the way, my wife... she is coming home too."
"Huh?!" The Grandfather snorted in rage.
"That damn daughter-in-law! She's the culprit! She's the one preventing you from having multiple wives!"
"See! Exactly, Dad! Please fight for that cause, will you? While we are—"
"INCOMPETENT CHILD!!!"
CLANG!
The phone nearly flew off its stand as it was slammed down.
The Grandfather staggered, gasping for breath, his chest heaving up and down. Not just because of his daughter-in-law—but because of his son's seemingly infinite stupidity.
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