"Hm? What are you doing out here this late at night, young man?"

A voice suddenly echoed from above the tall metal fence.

It was Uncle Acok — a middle-aged man with a mischievous face, the type who always appeared when he wasn't supposed to.

He stood on the top rail with one hand resting on his hip, the other casually tucked into his pocket. Dressed in a neatly pressed white batik shirt and dark slacks.

He looked more like someone on his way to a family gathering than a man trespassing in the middle of the night. His eyes, however, were narrowed with clear suspicion.

Huh... what's this old man doing here of all places? Al thought, his expression stiff.

"Ah, nothing," he replied flatly. "Just checking something."

"At this hour?" Uncle Acok asked again, squinting down like an interrogator who wouldn't give up.

Al, clearly in a hurry, sighed in mild irritation. "What's with you, Uncle? I just lost something earlier this afternoon. So I came back to look for it."

Uncle Acok tilted his head, eyes narrowing even further. "Lost something, huh?"

"You ask too many questions, Uncle," Al snapped, his tone sharp but still calm enough to hide his annoyance. "Shouldn't you be resting? Your body must still be sore from all that chaos yesterday."

Uncle Acok chuckled, then leapt down from the top of the gate with the ease of someone far more agile than his age should allow. His polished shoes landed with a soft thud on the ground in front of Al.

"So you were aware of the chaos yesterday," he said with a sly grin. "Funny, I didn't see you do anything useful. Not even a shadow of you. Unlike your siblings—Vianna and David—they at least showed up to defend the family."

Al's lips twitched, a tiny vein popping at his temple.

Uncle Acok continued before Al could respond.

"And that's exactly why I'm out here patrolling—making sure things are fine. So you shouldn't be wandering around like this. Besides..." he glanced up toward the dim sky,

"...after that explosion in the sky early this morning, things have been unpredictable. Dangerous. You should start training martial arts with me, boy. It'll knock that lazy habit out of you and prepare you to face whatever danger comes next."

Of course I'm aware, Al thought dryly.

You were fighting against me yesterday, old man. And David? Don't make me laugh. He was trembling like a scared rabbit. If only you knew—the entire chaos started because of him.

He sighed inwardly, keeping his expression unreadable.

"Huh… I'd rather argue with Sis Sarah for three hours straight than train with you," Al said lazily, concealing everything in his mind behind that casual tone.

"Hahaha! You'll realize someday just how important martial arts really are," Uncle Acok replied, laughing heartily. "Speaking of Sarah, where is that sister of yours? Haven't seen her in ages."

Wait?! Why did I even bring up Sarah's name…? Al blinked. Don't tell me I actually miss her? No way.

He shook his head, horrified by his own thought.

"I don't know. Ask someone else," Al replied curtly. "Anyway, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you plan to wreck this place again like last time."

Uncle Acok's face twitched, clearly offended by the reminder. His proud smile faltered.

"No need to bring that up again. I already apologized, didn't I?" he grumbled. "Still... for some reason, something feels off tonight. Like something's drawing me here. But I suppose you wouldn't understand things like that."

He turned toward the large fence, completely unaware that it was covered by a layer of illusion — an invisible barrier that hid what truly lay beyond.

"By the way," he added, gesturing toward the structure inside, "this building—this is your new house, isn't it? Strange choice. The main mansion has plenty of rooms. Are you isolating yourself on purpose?"

Al gave a small nod, his expression showing clear impatience. "Uncle, you don't need to worry about that. What you should worry about is keeping yourself from destroying this place again. So please, just go. For some reason, I get nervous whenever you're near anything I own."

"I told you not to bring that up again," Uncle Acok barked, both hands now planted firmly on his hips as he glared at him.

Al met that glare head-on, his expression unamused, unflinching.

The tension lingered for several seconds before Uncle Acok finally exhaled sharply and turned away, losing the silent staring contest.

"Relax," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I just wanted to take a look."

And with that, he reached his hand forward—slowly, curiously—toward the area cloaked by illusion.

Al stood there, eyes fixed on Uncle Acok's movement, certain that nothing bad would happen. There was no way that old man could possibly detect the illusion barrier he had set up. It was subtle, refined, and masked perfectly even from sensitive senses.

But just as Uncle Acok reached his hand out, the edge of his white batik shirt shifted slightly — revealing his wrist. Around it was a bracelet made of small brown beads, glowing faintly with a greenish hue that pulsed like living energy.

Al's breath hitched.

That thing…! That's—!

"Uncle, stop!" he shouted instinctively.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up — dashing forward like a blur, hand shooting out to grab Uncle Acok's wrist just before his fingers made contact with the illusionary surface.

Uncle Acok's eyes widened in surprise. The old man hadn't expected that kind of speed from the usually sluggish boy. His wrist was caught midair, Al's grip tight and desperate.

Up close, Al could see the bracelet more clearly.

I knew it! That's the same artifact… Where did this old man even get it? Tch… that was way too close.

But before he could think further, Uncle Acok jerked his arm back roughly. His strength easily broke Al's hold, forcing the younger boy to stumble a step backward.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?" Uncle Acok's tone mixed irritation with genuine confusion.

Al hesitated, his mind scrambling for a quick explanation. He couldn't say what he'd actually seen — not without revealing far too much. So he blurted out the first excuse that came to mind.

"I… I just didn't want you touching my stuff! Don't forget, you're the one who broke it last time," Al replied defensively, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"Tch. You're still bringing that up? Are you that traumatized, huh?" Uncle Acok crossed his arms, scoffing. "You were the one sneaking around that night, don't you remember?"

Then, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he added, "But something's off. You look strange. That wasn't the real reason, was it? Are you hiding something here, kid?"

Al's lips twitched. His patience thinned.

This old man… does he ever shut up? Should I just erase him right now?

Uncle Acok pressed again, stepping closer. "Well? What are you hiding?"

Al's thoughts spun in frustration. There was no good answer — every possible response would only make things worse. He considered just throwing a random lie to end it—

—but before he could, the tension shattered.

A low rumble filled the air. Headlights flared across the yard as a sleek black car rolled into the driveway. Its polished surface reflected the moonlight like glass.

Both of them turned.

Inside the car, a silhouette appeared — long brown-black hair cascading down her shoulders, sunglasses still on even though it was night, an unmistakably haughty posture.

Sarah.

Al's second sister.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Huh? Why her? Don't tell me she showed up because we mentioned her name just now? No way… this feels like one of those spiritual myths — say the ghost's name, and it appears right in front of you. But she's not a ghost… right?

Still, there was no time to stay stunned. This was his golden chance to divert attention.

"Oh! Big Sis Sarah's back!" Al shouted dramatically.

Without hesitation, he ran toward the gate, pretending to be thrilled by her arrival. His exaggerated enthusiasm was enough to pull all of Uncle Acok's focus away.

The old man blinked, momentarily startled by both the name and the sight of the car. Then, realizing who had arrived, his suspicion toward Al evaporated like mist.

"Huh? That's unexpected," he muttered, before moving quickly toward the driveway. Greeting the "young lady" who had just returned took immediate priority — especially one of Sarah Virellano's status.

Meanwhile, Al exhaled silently, letting the tension drain from his shoulders.

Crisis averted — for now.

---

The moment Sarah's car rolled into the main courtyard, the atmosphere subtly shifted — a quiet blend of class and drama that only she could bring.

She stepped out of the sleek black vehicle dressed in casual wear, yet somehow her presence still radiated the aura of a celebrity. Even her simplest outfit — a loose cream blouse and light jeans — carried an elegance that screamed diva.

Her steps were brisk, her sneakers clicking softly against the marble floor. But with the way she carried herself — chin slightly lifted, hair cascading in waves, her every movement sharp and controlled — it almost felt like she was filming a high-end commercial instead of just walking toward her family's house.

However, the confident composure on her face vanished the moment her eyes landed on the first person she saw. Not her parents. Not one of her beloved sisters. Not David.

But him.

Al.

"Ugh…" she groaned under her breath, her expression twisting in visible annoyance. "Seriously? I just got back, I'm tired, jet-lagged, and this is the first face I have to see at home?"

Al arrived, stood three meters away, completely unbothered, hands in his pockets, his face as flat and unreadable as always.

Sarah clicked her tongue, giving him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"What kind of cursed dream did I have last night to deserve seeing you first thing today? Great. Just great. Don't tell me you're standing here to suck up to me or something."

"Huh? Don't flatter yourself," Al shot back dryly. "If anything, I'm probably the unlucky one here. Or… maybe lucky? I'm not even sure anymore. Anyway, at least this is the first useful thing I've ever gotten from you since I got back."

His tone was dismissive, his words oddly uncertain, but his smirk was sharp enough to sting.

Sarah's brows furrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Al didn't bother answering. He simply crossed his arms, lowering his head slightly as if he had already lost interest.

Sarah sighed in irritation but before she could snap again, her gaze shifted to the side — and immediately softened.

Someone else was approaching.

"Young Miss Sarah. It's been a long time," said Uncle Acok, his voice calm but warm, like that of an old friend greeting someone he'd missed.

Sarah's eyes brightened instantly, her earlier annoyance fading as she turned toward him.

"Oh! Uncle Acok, you're back too!" she exclaimed, smiling for the first time since she stepped out of the car.

The middle-aged man chuckled lightly, bowing with polite respect. "Welcome home, Young Miss Sarah."

Sarah stepped forward, extending her hand. "It's really been a while."

They shook hands — his grip firm, hers elegant — and for a moment, the two exchanged warm, casual words, completely ignoring Al's existence. To Sarah, Al wasn't even worth a glance now that someone more "civilized" was around.

That was perfectly fine for Al. The moment he realized the attention had shifted away, he quietly turned around, ready to slip away and disappear before anyone called him back.

But before he could take more than a few steps, their conversation wrapped up.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Sarah said, her tone now polite but slightly hurried. "I'd love to chat more, but I need to see my parents first."

Uncle Acok nodded understandingly. "Of course, I completely understand."

Sarah smiled faintly and turned toward the house. But before walking off, she glanced sideways at Al — a brief, disdainful look that carried the weight of her opinion.

"Well then, Uncle, I'll head inside. And… be careful around that one," she said, tilting her chin toward Al. "Who knows, he might still be carrying some strange disease from the outside world."

Without waiting for any response, she strutted toward the front doors, her dress swaying dramatically with each step — a full display of elegance and arrogance in one.

Uncle Acok blinked, momentarily stunned by the sharpness of her remark. Then, after a pause, he chuckled softly.

"Hahaha! You caught me off guard there," he said, shaking his head. "For a second, I thought you two were close — cause the way you walked up to her so cheerfully. Guess I was wrong. You two clearly don't get along."

Al stopped mid-step but didn't look back. He let out a small breath through his nose, choosing to ignore the teasing. Instead, he continued walking, his pace calm but distant.

But Uncle Acok wasn't done.

"Still, young man…" His tone dropped slightly, carrying a hint of seriousness now. "I think you and I still have something we need to talk about."

Al froze. His shoulders stiffened, a faint twitch of irritation flashing across his expression.

He turned slowly, eyes meeting the older man's. The air between them shifted once more — no longer casual or mocking.

Just tense.

Unspoken things hung between them like a quiet storm waiting to break.

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