The stage lights dimmed, and the piano's bouncy rhythm faded into a lower, simmering hum.
The cheerful One Week (Of Smiles) was still lingering in the audience's ears, but the atmosphere had changed abruptly.
The set changed—gone were the suitcases and "HOME" signs, replaced by a dim living room scene. One couch, one small dining table, and an old grandfather clock ticking in the corner.
The brothers were spaced across the stage like they were defending their own territory. No one looked at each other for more than two seconds.
Monday, also known as Mond, leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, chin tilted with the authority only the firstborn could claim. His voice was low at first, but dripping with condescension.
"We don't even need to have this conversation. I'm the oldest. The house, the land—it's my responsibility to take over. It's what Dad would expect."
