The Lei Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that did not come from peace but from familiarity—like a house that had learned the rhythms of its people and settled into them.
the living room where the television played nonstop entertainment news at a volume just low enough to be ignored, yet just loud enough to exist.
and a snack bowl rested precariously on asiya stomach in a way that suggested both carelessness and absolute confidence that it would not fall.
On the television, a reporter spoke with rising excitement.
"…and the nation's favorite actor continues to dominate both box office and streaming platforms—"
The screen filled with the image of a man surrounded by flashing cameras and shouting reporters, his name echoing across headlines, his presence commanding attention even through a screen.
Asiya stared at it for exactly two seconds.
Then she changed the channel.
"Too noisy," she muttered, her tone flat with disinterest.
Behind her, a ghost silently adjusted the curtain so the sunlight no longer touched her face. Another hovered nearby, carefully holding a glass of juice, while a third remained near the table, guarding the snacks like an invisible attendant.
Asiya lazily reached out.
The chips packet lifted on its own and settled into her hand.
She took a bite.
"Good."
The ghosts relaxed immediately, as if they had just passed an unspoken test.
—
Then—
The front door opened.Footsteps entered.
Calm. Familiar.
One ghost froze mid-air.
"…He's here."
Another panicked instantly. "HIDE—he can't see us, but still HIDE—"
They scattered without hesitation, vanishing into corners, behind walls, above ceilings—anywhere but visible.
Asiya did not move.
"Family," she said casually.
A second later, a voice echoed into the room.
"Wow. Same mess. Nothing changed."
Asiya paused mid-bite.
Slowly, she turned her head—
And there he was.Her second brother.
Dressed casually, sunglasses hooked at his collar, a travel bag slung over his shoulder, he looked nothing like the untouchable star who had just filled the television screen. There was no spotlight here, no distance, no crowd.
Just… him.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
"YOU'RE BACK?!"
She jumped up without hesitation, crossed the distance in seconds, and hugged him tightly.
He blinked once, clearly caught off guard, before his expression softened. He wrapped an arm around her and patted her head gently.
"Missed me?" he asked.
She pulled back immediately.
"No."
A pause.
"…Maybe a little."
He smirked.
"That's progress."
She crossed her arms, already regaining composure.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wanted to see that exact reaction."
"…You're annoying."
"And you're still lazy."
"Consistent."
Above them, a ghost whispered from the ceiling,
"…He didn't notice us, right?"
Another ghost replied quietly,
"Of course not. He's normal."
"…Lucky."
—
The moment the hug ended, the energy in the room shifted into something lighter—warmer, sharper, alive in a way it hadn't been moments ago.
Asiya stepped back and looked him up and down with open judgment.
"…You got thinner."
He raised a brow. "That's called staying in shape."
"That's called not eating properly."
"I literally came from a shoot."
"Excuses."
He laughed softly.
"Still bossy."
"Still irresponsible."
"Still short."
Asiya narrowed her eyes slowly.
"…Say that again."
"Short."
She kicked his shin without warning.
"OW—HEY!"
"Respect your elder sister."
"I'm older than you."
"Emotionally, I'm older."
"…That doesn't count."
From above, a ghost whispered with interest,
"…I like him."
Another answered,
"…He's going to suffer."
—
Within minutes, the entire family gathered, drawn together as if by instinct rather than intention.
Voices overlapped. Laughter returned. Movement filled the house.
Their mother entered first, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.
"You finally came home."
He straightened instinctively.
"Of course, Mom."
She hugged him tightly, holding on for just a moment longer than usual.
Their father followed, slower, quieter, but the softness in his gaze said enough.
"You disappeared again," he said.
"Work," he replied simply.
A small nod.
That was enough.
—
Then came the gifts.
"Sit," her brother said, dropping his bag onto the table. "I didn't come empty-handed."
Asiya sat immediately.
Front row.
No hesitation.
"No dignity," he muttered.
"No patience," she corrected.
One by one, he handed things out—carefully chosen, thoughtfully picked.
And then—
He looked at her.Paused.
Reached into the bag.
"Yours."
She took it instantly and opened it without ceremony.
Inside was a soft, oversized hoodie.
Simple.Comfortable.
Exactly her style.
She stared at it for a second.
Then—
"…You have good taste."
"I know."
Without another word, she stood up and walked away.
"…Right now?" he called after her.
"Testing quality," her voice came from down the hallway.
A minute later, she returned wearing it.
The sleeves were too long. The fit slightly oversized.
Perfect.
She flopped back onto the sofa.
"…Approved."
He smiled slightly.
"High praise."
—
Dinner followed naturally, the table filled with warmth and familiarity.
Asiya sat down and immediately started eating.
No waiting.
No formality.
Her brother watched her for a moment.
"…You didn't even wait."
"I was hungry."
"You're always hungry."
"Correct."
Halfway through the meal, she reached over and took something from his plate.
He froze.
"…Did you just steal my food?"
"Yes."
"You have your own."
"I wanted yours."
"…Unbelievable."
He took something from her plate in return.
She stopped mid-motion.
"Return it."
"No."
"Return it."
"No."
She narrowed her eyes—
And calmly took two more from his plate.
"…That's not how fairness works!"
"It is now."
Their parents watched quietly.
Then their mother smiled.
"Let them."
Their father nodded.
"…It's been a while."
—
After dinner—
"Game?" her brother asked.
Asiya looked up instantly.
"…You're going to lose."
He smirked.
"Confidence."
"Experience."
Jun, from the side, added dryly, "Destruction."
Controllers were picked up.
The match began.
Five minutes later—
"HEY THAT WAS CHEATING!"
"That was skill."
"YOU SPAMMED THE SAME MOVE!"
"Because it works."
Ten minutes later—
She won.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Her brother, Kai leaned back, staring at the screen.
"…I refuse to believe this."
"Skill issue."
"You're banned."
"You're weak."
"You're insufferable."
"You're losing."
"…Rematch."
"Accepted."
—
Eventually, he stood up.
"Let's go out."
Asiya paused mid-game.
"…Where?"
"Shopping."
Silence.
Then—
"…No."
—
The mall was loud.
Bright.
Crowded.
Alive in a way Asiya clearly did not appreciate.
The moment the doors opened, she stopped walking.
"…No."
Her brother didn't even look back.
"Yes."
"This place is loud."
"It's normal."
"There are too many people."
"It's a mall."
"…I want to go home."
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.
"Too late."
—
Five minutes later, she was seated in a store.
Completely still.Emotionally detached.
Meanwhile, he thrived.
Clothes appeared one after another in his hands.
"This one."
"No, this one."
"Try this."
Asiya blinked slowly.
"…Why are you like this?"
"Because I have taste."
"You have energy."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing."
—
"Stand up."
"No."
"Stand up."
"No."
A pause.
Then he held up a hoodie.
Her size.
She looked at it.
Paused.
"…Show."
She stood.
Tried it.
Came out.
"…Good."
He nodded.
"See? You like it."
"I like this."
"That's shopping."
"That's one item."
"…We're not leaving with one item."
"We are."
"…We'll see."
—
Thirty minutes later—
He was shopping.
She was surviving.
At one point, she sat on a random bench and didn't move.
"I retired," she said when he found her.
"You can't retire from shopping."
"I just did."
—
Eventually, he handed her a bag.
She held it.
For ten seconds.
Then—
A ghost quietly took it from her.
She relaxed instantly.
"…Better."
Her brother frowned.
"…Wait. Weren't you holding that?"
"Must have imagined it."
"…You're suspicious."
"You're dramatic."
—
Later, at the food court—
Asiya came back to life.
"This is the only good part," she declared.
He dropped the bags beside him.
"You didn't help at all."
"I was emotional support."
"You weren't even present."
"I was spiritually present."
"…That's not a thing."
"It is now."
—
They left the mall as the evening settled.
He carried every bag.
She walked beside him.
Hands empty.
Peaceful.
"…You really didn't help," he said.
"I supervised."
"…You did nothing."
"I approved the important things."
"You approved one hoodie."
"That was critical."
—
She glanced at him.
Smiled faintly.
"…You like this too much."
He looked ahead.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…Didn't get to do this before."
For a brief moment—
her expression softened.
"…Then next time," she said quietly,
"we'll come earlier."
He looked at her.
Then smiled.
"…Deal."
—
Meanwhile _
The traffic in Ryan City did not stop out of fear.
It stopped out of confusion.
Horns blared impatiently, drivers leaned out of their windows shouting at one another, and irritation spread far faster than concern, because to them, nothing about the situation felt dangerous—only inconvenient.
At the very center of the intersection, however, stood a man who did not belong to that normalcy.
He was barefoot, unmoving, and strangely still in the middle of rushing vehicles. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, and his eyes were open, yet completely empty, as if whatever should have been inside them had long since disappeared.
Inside a sleek black car waiting a short distance away, Arjun Kashyap observed everything without a trace of impatience on his face.
"What is causing the delay?" he asked calmly.
His driver hesitated before replying, "Sir, it appears a man walked into the road and stopped moving. People think he might be mentally unstable."
Arjun's gaze did not waver.
"That does not explain the reaction pattern," he said quietly.
There was no panic in the crowd—only irritation and confusion. That, in itself, was inconsistent.
"Move closer," he instructed.
A few streets away, Asiya had been walking without any particular destination in mind, a juice box in one hand and her phone loosely held in the other.
She looked completely at ease, as if the world moved according to her convenience rather than the other way around.
Then, without warning, she stopped.
Her movement was subtle, but absolute.
The straw slipped slightly from her lips as her eyes shifted—not toward the road, not toward the noise—but toward something deeper, something that did not belong to the ordinary rhythm of the city.
A faint distortion lingered in the air.
Unseen.Unnoticed.
But wrong.
Asiya sighed softly, her expression showing mild annoyance rather than concern.
"…Already?" she murmured.
Without hesitation, she turned and began walking toward the intersection.